


A Tiger on a Chain

by WilmaKins



Series: Atigeron Bonds [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Begging, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Bottom Steve Rogers, Come Swallowing, Commitment, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Porn, Emotional Sex, Introspection, Lack of Communication, M/M, Morning After, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Top Tony Stark, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-21 10:58:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilmaKins/pseuds/WilmaKins
Summary: The morning after the night before, and Steve and Tony wake up bonded.Unfortunately, no one told either of them that - and what are the chances of them working it out the easy way...?Vampire AU - direct sequel to Bite Me (please)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is written as a direct sequel to Bite Me (Please) - which was conceived as a drunken experiment, actually, and I never imagined that I'd write a follow up... But here we are. If I thought I was nervous about posting the first one, dude - so much scarier when you're sober. 
> 
> I don't know if you need to read the first one to read this, TBH- I refer back to it a lot, but I think this would still make sense without it...
> 
> Roughly 60% Angst/Character introspection, 10% Plot and 30% Porn. The NSFW stuff doesn't turn up until the end, but I'm tagging from the get go so that people know what they're getting into...
> 
> And, um, yeah... really hope you like it!

Tony woke up cleanly.

He just opened his eyes from a deep, dreamless sleep, and was immediately _awake_. Refreshed, and rested, like you never really feel as soon as you wake up…

And then he felt the warmth and weight of Steve, next to him on the bed. And he _remembered._

It might’ve been better, if Tony hadn’t been quite _so_ awake. This felt like the sort of thing that should’ve come back to him slowly, that he should remember as a string of inebriated flashes.

It seemed like the sort of thing he shouldn’t remember at all, actually.

In Tony’s experience, the human mind would try to shield a person from the consequences of totally uninhibited behaviour. It would black out what a person did when they were drunk or high, or enraged or in shock or psychotic. But not whatever last night was, apparently. If anything, Tony remembered last night in especially vivid detail…

He closed his eyes again, and held himself still, and waited to panic. Obviously, he _would_ panic, in a minute. He already knew everything he had to panic about, he was already thinking all the right things…any minute now, he’d _feel _it…

_Any_ minute now…

…huh.

He felt…nervous, maybe? Or…_uncomfortable_? But not _alarmed_. In fact, whatever discomfort he _did_ feel… he might’ve been doing that to himself. By now, it was like he was actively trying to freak himself out.

_You literally bit a human being, and drank his blood. _

_And then you fucked him._

_And also, it was Steve._

_You had sex with Steve._

_You bit Steve._

_You promised to love and look after Steve for the rest of his life-_

_And you meant it – come on, if that doesn’t freak you out…_

He knew that was terrifying in the same way that he knew global warming was terrifying. It wasn’t that he didn’t take it seriously. It wasn’t that he didn’t _know_ the dire consequences, or even that he didn’t worry about the future… it was just hard to turn that cerebral anxiety into a bodily panic. It was hard to convince himself that it was an imminent crisis…

When it was just part of life now…

Okay, Tony could at least recognise that, objectively, this was all very odd. That it made no sense for him to have suddenly devoted himself to Steve, and even less sense that he’d accept it so casually. He _should_ be more frightened about what was going on.

The best explanation his strangely sober mind could come up with was that he wasn’t really sober at all. That, as clear headed as the whole thing felt to him right now, it could only have happened under the influence of something. Some inebriant effect of Steve’s blood, some physiological effect of feeding that Yinsen had probably warned him about, back when he wasn’t listening. And, whatever that something was, it obviously wasn’t completely out of his system.

This could _only_ be an artificial calm, a hangover from whatever he was high on last night – and he _must’ve_ been high on something last night, however it felt in his memories, because he _knew_ he wouldn’t be okay with any of this…

Surely?

Well, he wasn’t going to figure it out while he was under the influence of it, was he? There was no point in wondering how he felt about this, when he wasn’t even in his right mind enough to have an anxiety attack over it.

…But it was fine.

Whatever _it_ was, Tony felt baselessly sure that it would wear off eventually. That, sooner or later, he’d find himself back in his right mind, and have that anxiety attack, and _then_ he could ask himself just how fucked up all of this really was.

…So, what should he do in the meantime?

Ordinarily, he would just try to leave quietly. That was how he handled all of his one-night stands. That was, apparently, how his right mind thought it was best to deal with these things… so, rationally speaking, he should probably go with that…

But then, usually, he’d _want _to leave…

He opened his eyes again, and glanced over to where Steve was still sleeping, _so _peacefully… And Tony was overwhelmed by a wave of affection so strong that it couldn’t possibly be real, and it _had_ to be real, all at once.

This wasn’t a one-night stand. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever shared with anyone else – so it made no sense to think about what he’d normally do.

He _did_ mean it, when he promised to love and look after Steve for the rest of his life. He didn’t understand it, but he absolutely meant it.

He _wasn’t_ scared of what he’d done, or even what he was – not anymore. Not now that he knew how good it could be, how good it could make _Steve _feel.

He did feel strong, still.

And, of course, these could only be the thoughts of a delusional man, still coming down from some seriously heavy shit…

Obviously, later, he’d realise he didn’t mean any of it – or, at the very least, he’d be sensible enough to have a screaming fit over it. He’d remember why he spent his whole life feeling nervous and inadequate and angry at himself. He’d appreciate the seriousness of his own demonic bloodlust, at some point.

At some point, he probably _would_ remember why he always left before the other person woke up.

At some point, he’d look back on this moment and kick himself.

Because, even though he _knew_ all that – he wasn’t leaving.

Tony looked at Steve, and he just _felt_ like he wasn’t supposed to go. And, okay, he _knew_ that these feelings weren’t really his… probably… but they were the only feelings he had. He just… couldn’t bear the idea of Steve waking up all alone. He couldn’t convince himself that was better for either of them, he couldn’t picture how to do it properly.

Whereas he _could_ picture being here when Steve woke up, so easily. And no matter how many times he told himself it was an illusion, that he already _knew_ it couldn’t happen like that, that it _shouldn’t_ happen like that… No matter how many times he told himself that it was fake, and wrong, and bound to end in humiliation and heartbreak – he just couldn’t see it. Or unsee it. Whichever.

All he could do was lie here and wait.

*

Steve’s first conscious thought was of Tony. He’d managed to think where Tony was before he wondered where _he_ was-

And not just _think._

He _felt_ the gap where Tony should be, the physical need to find him, the desperation as immediate and instinctive as the gasp for oxygen when you _just_ make it to the surface in time-

_He promised._

And if Steve had opened his eyes to find that Tony had ‘given him space’. If Tony had just left him to wake up, alone and bruised and naked…

It really might have broken him. The inevitable crash might’ve been just too much, just too raw, on top of everything else. Steve might never have stopped crying.

Or, maybe, he would.

Maybe it would’ve just given Steve time to shut himself off completely. To build all his hurt and anger and disappointment into a wall, until there was nothing left of himself. In a few hours that morning, he might’ve created a distance it would’ve taken them years to close again. It would’ve given Steve a chance to pretend – and a reason to think he had to.

But, as it was, Steve sat up with a gasp, already scanning the room for Tony-

And, oh, the relief when Tony _was_ there, sitting right beside him on the bed. The feeling of total certainty, that everything was okay, because Tony hadn’t left him.

Tony looked over at him, and Steve felt a surge of reassurance that he didn’t think to cover.

“Hey, it’s okay” Tony soothed, shuffling over to him. And Steve was just glad that Tony was being kind to him. Just that, at first. He thought nothing more about it when Tony reached to put a gentle hand to the side of his face. And then he felt the cool press of Tony’s fingers… and _he_ remembered…

And, just like Tony, he had the idea that this was going to be really bad…when it hit him…

But, as it so happened, a mixture of fate and dumb biology had led to Steve starting this thing with his guard down. Brought him to a moment in which he was already letting Tony comfort him…. And, whatever he _thought_ about it, it still just felt natural, and comfortable, and nice…

_This is all going to seem really weird in a minute…_

And then Tony moved, leaning behind him to where he’d thrown a bathrobe onto the bed in a heap. It matched the one that Tony was wearing, now that Steve looked… And only then did Steve recognise that he was still naked.

_That should bother me. I should be embarrassed about that, or at least feel vulnerable…_

So, even though he _wasn’t_ especially uncomfortable being naked around Tony, he took the robe and put it on – because he was sure that’s what he’d want to do, normally. As he moved to wrap it around himself, he saw the dark purple bruise on his hip… _that_ would bother him later, right? Or, at least, it wouldn’t _please_ him like this, later… or, if it _did_, then _that_ would bother him, later…

“Are you okay?” Tony asked, softly.

“Yeah, I think so.” Steve gave the only answer he had. Because he knew it made no sense – but he _did_ still feel okay right now, so what else could he say? And Tony nodded, and smiled.

There was a little pause that Steve would’ve been happy to stay in, at least for a while…

“So, we should probably talk about last night” Tony’s voice was still soft, but not quite as fluid. Like he was thinking about each individual word before he said it. “And… I don’t know if you wanted the chance to say something first, or if you wanted me to…?”

“I’d rather you did.” Steve admitted. He couldn’t think what else to do, other than to be honest. He couldn’t remember the lies he usually told, or make sense of the persona he usually played. He only had this.

“So, for a start, _whatever else_, we really shouldn’t- _I _really shouldn’t have done that without talking about it _first_.” Tony said, carefully, “And I’m not going to make excuses for that – honestly, I just lost my head, and that was impulsive and reckless and probably came over really aggressive. So. I’m sorry for that.” And then Tony bit his bottom lip just so, his eyes falling shut before he added “But I don’t regret that it happened.”

Steve felt a surge of absolute joy… that he somehow felt quite distant from. A purely bodily happiness, something that he hadn’t expected and couldn’t explain, even after the fact. He shouldn’t be _that_ pleased, to hear Tony say he didn’t regret it – he shouldn’t be pleased _at all_. He should regret it himself – he was _going_ to… any minute now…

“And, I mean… If I’d thought for a second that I was hurting you, I would’ve stopped, even in the moment – and that’s not me saying… I just mean, I’m so sorry if I _did_ hurt you, and I never meant for that to happen, and I never thought that wasn’t important… and, if I hurt you, then I regret _that_.” Tony carried on, his voice just a little faster toward the end “I just mean… I _did_ want to do that. And I did enjoy that. And I… I just thought you should know that.”

“You didn’t hurt me.” Steve assured him – because that one must be a gimme. In a few hours this adoration would wear off, and he’d probably feel terrible about so much of this… but surely, he’d never want Tony to think he’d hurt him? That couldn’t be right… Steve couldn’t predict how he would feel about any of this, when his own feelings came back to him, but he was quite certain that Tony hadn’t hurt him…

“And I don’t regret it either…” Steve went on, oh so cautiously. It was as though he was suddenly magicked free of shame – and it wasn’t nearly as much fun as it sounded. It was more like being sent out into battle blindfolded. Not being able to see the scariness of this situation didn’t free him from it, it just made him permanently anxious that he was about to run right into it. He had no way to plan for or prevent the damage he was about to do to himself.

He remembered that he spent his whole life trying to follow a very strict sent of guidelines… but he couldn’t remember what they were. He couldn’t even guess.

He couldn’t think _why_ he’d feel the need to do something like that…

He could only reason that it would make sense to him later, that he’d remember all the things he wasn’t supposed to talk about, and why… but, heaven help him, he just didn’t know what they were right now.

“I…uh…I don’t know how this is all _going_ to feel, though…” Steve went on, slowly “I feel pretty calm, right now, and I don’t know if that’s…going to last.”

“No, I know what you mean, actually” Tony agreed, quickly, “It’s all still a bit…” And he gestured to both sides of his head, _mind blown_, and Steve smiled.

“I mean, right now, it just feels like its… _fine_…” Steve went on…

And that wasn’t quite honest.

Actually, right _now_, Steve felt still, and solid, and quiet, for the first time in so long… and God, he’d missed that.

Right now, Steve just felt an overwhelming love for Tony Stark, and an overwhelming need to be loved by him, and that made him feel complete, and real, and right.

He felt all the physical symptoms of elation and liberation. He just couldn’t place any of them…

He felt raw, and tender, and bruised – and he loved it.

But he couldn’t quite find the words for any of that, in time. He couldn’t switch off that background alarm, _these things are off limits, come on, you must remember that_…

In the end, it came out as ‘fine’.

“…but I keep thinking that, you know, I’m sure that I’d think this was a bigger thing…”

“And you don’t know if this _is_ going to be a big deal, when you sober up” Tony guessed “So how can you guess what you’re going to be freaked out by, then?”

And Steve breathed a relieved smile, and nodded, _yeah, that_.

“Is this… normal?” He asked, shyly. “I mean, does it always feel like this?”

“Honestly, I have no idea” Tony confessed. “I don’t know if you know… but I was turned – made into a vampire – by the guy that helped me in Afghanistan… and he died, pretty soon after… So, I, uh, I never got a lot of notes on what being a vampire really means…”

“I’m sorry” Steve whispered, and Tony flashed a sad smile that made Steve’s heart ache.

“And I…I’ve never done that before…” He added-

And Steve’s chest swelled with such as sudden and intense elation that he forgot to breathe. No context. No rationale. Just an immediate and overpowering experience of joy…

“…I don’t drink human blood, usually.” Tony just carried on, oblivious “And I’ve only ever drunk out of a flask before now – or, an MIT mug, and insert your own joke there… So, no, I don’t know what either of us are under the influence of, or what it does, or how long it lasts…”

“If I thought this would last forever, I wouldn’t be scared of anything” Steve just said it. He had no reason to think that was any more wrong than anything else. And then Tony huffed this gentle little laugh, a tender look in his eyes.

“No, me neither.”

There was a soft moment of silence, in which Steve was just happy to watch Tony think.

“So, okay, tell you what.” Tony started again, brightly. “I do really think we need to talk about this… but maybe we should try doing that a little later. When whatever this is has had the chance to wear off, and maybe we can work out what we really think about it.”

Steve smiled again. It sounded sensible. And, beneath that, there was this basic, unarticulated faith that Tony would _be_ sensible about this, this feeling that Tony knew what he was doing… that he’d just be right about this stuff…

“Okay” Steve nodded.

“Okay.” Tony added, with a friendly sort of finality. And then he cast his eye across the bedroom again, and bit back a sudden little smile before he carried on. “I, uh, I’ll get dressed, and I’ll go to your room and get you some clothes…”

_Because he tore my clothes off of me, last night…_

Suddenly Steve saw in perfect clarity just how much he wanted someone who could tear his clothes off of him-

_Okay, that has to be the Vampire bite talking. _

“Yeah, um, thank you” Steve muttered, blushing, as Tony hastily threw on last night’s shirt. Steve dropped his eyes as his mind drifted back to the night before… to the weeks before that… Wondering if he’d always wanted Tony to take control of him, if he could _really_ remember wanting it anyway, or if it was all part of this temporary madness…

And then he felt Tony pause, just by the door.

Steve looked up at him, and found Tony looking back at him so softly…

“I just… You know, _however_ you end up feeling about all this is okay.” He told Steve, almost sadly “If you work out that you wanted something from this, or needed something from this, whatever it was, then you don’t have to feel bad for that. Even if it was just this one time – or even if it wasn’t – _whatever_ this ends up being… there is nothing wrong with how you feel. Sometimes you have to think what you’re going to _do_ about it… but, just, don’t ever feel bad for what you feel, okay?”

Steve let go of a pleasant breath, and nodded again. He hoped, when he came back to himself, he’d at least be able to work out what was so nice about that…

*

Tony kissed Steve goodbye. He had no idea if that was the correct vampire etiquette, but it felt right in the moment.

And then he closed his bedroom door, and let his weight fall against it, and recognised that he had no choice but to indulge this for a while.

He had no chance of ordering or analysing any of it while he was still delirious. There was nothing productive he could be doing, instead of enjoying this… Maybe this would run its course faster, if he let it burn itself out-

Oh, he didn’t _care_.

He’d spent two hours listing all the reasons he _should_ care, and gearing himself up for when he _did_ care, and trying to think of what he’d care about _if_ he cared. Telling himself not to get carried away with this because it wasn’t real; trying not to like it because he _wouldn’t_ like it, later. And he was still quite sure that he was _going_ to freak out at some point, and that it was going to be terrible-

But, screw it, he _wasn’t_ freaking out now.

Right _now_, Tony felt so perfectly calm… sated, and relaxed, and… _reassured_. That basic, wordless confidence that came from being somewhere totally familiar, somewhere you had every right to be. The calm that came from knowing exactly what you were there to do and having no reason to even question that you could do it…

Well, Tony assumed.

Thinking about it now, he’d never felt completely safe or sure, before. There had never been a time when he didn’t have a contingency plan running in the background – _If I’m ambushed, If I’m questioned, If I have to explain my right to exist to someone who hates me… _Tony’s qualities had never been _assumed_, not even by him. No matter how many times he proved himself, no matter how many achievements he added to his growing reputation, there was always that unspoken challenge – _let’s see how smart you really are, then. _He walked into every new room tasked with proving that he wasn’t a fraud, before he proved that he was anything special. And there had always been the inherent belief that he deserved that, somehow… That it was his place to fix it… 

Confidence for Tony had always meant being well prepared enough to handle it, making himself brave and bold and bright enough to overcome it when it happened. He’d never even considered the possibility that he’d just feel good enough in the first place. That he’d ever just _assume_ the world would see him that way… or not care whether they did… Not assume that it was his failing if they didn’t, that he was responsible for changing it….

And he _knew_ that he hadn’t suddenly become ‘good enough’, just because he was high on something. He knew that a lifetime’s worth of priorities hadn’t suddenly become unimportant, just because they didn’t feel important right now… But it was just so nice to not feel all that, for a minute. And, since he was quite sure he’d have to feel it all again eventually… Well, why not just enjoy it?

And, okay, there were probably a thousand answers to that question… But Tony couldn’t remember any of them, so there.

He flopped out onto his bed like a lovesick teenager after prom night. Well, not _his_ prom night. Tony’s actual prom night ended in a police cell with a guy who called himself _Optimus Pure…_ In fact, thinking about it, he’d never had this either. There hadn’t been one genuinely romantic moment in his life before this; he’d never felt _this_ giddy excitement. This was something he’d only seen in movies. Something he wasn’t sure really existed. And yet. 

He thought back to a night that had ended with him stroking Steve’s skin, and kissing his neck very softly, and whispering that he loved him…

Tony stretched happily, curling his toes… And, as he moved, there was that subtle swell in the air, the scent of Steve still soaked into his blood-stained sheets…

_Probably not the best place to lie, if I want to get over this…_ Tony thought, and then forgot, as quickly as that.

Instead his thoughts made it further back into the night before, to the memory of Steve baring his neck, his pulse throbbing thick and fast under his skin, his hand at the back of Tony’s head – _Do it Tony, please_. 

To Steve’s lips, soft and warm and heavy against Tony’s, the heat in his voice as he whispered, _please Tony, fuck me…_

He remembered the roll of Steve’s back, that impossible body tense and trembling under Tony’s hands. The sound of him screaming.

He remembered Steve, open and trusting and vulnerable, and just the most beautiful creature that had ever existed…Tony remembered the pleading tone and the need in his eyes, and _knowing_ that he could give him everything he wanted. That he could keep Steve safe, and happy, that he could take away all his fear and all that pressure and all those questions….

_But can you, though?_

Well now.

This was a strange situation to find himself in.

Because, logically, he was quite sure that he _wasn’t_ up to looking after Steve Rogers – he could barely look after himself. Everyone said so… And Steve was something unique, and perfect, and powerful… and in so much pain… It would take someone so much more than, to take care of Steve. Not someone less than, as Tony had always been…

But he still didn’t feel less than.

In fact, he still felt like all the people who’d called him _less than_ were harmless, self-interested little children, and it was ridiculous that he’d ever paid them any attention. He was _still_ sure that he was meant to take care of Steve, that he knew him and loved him better than anyone else ever could – that no one needed Steve, like he did.

All of his personal experience, and what were left of his critical thinking skills, suggested that he couldn’t make Steve a promise like that. He did know that it would be strange and inappropriate, to go to Steve right now and pledge his undying love – and he remembered knowing that he couldn’t keep promises like that.

He could imagine a version of himself, from just a day ago, standing at the foot of his bed. He would be incredulous that Tony was even considering this, given what he objectively knew.

And yet there was another voice in his head, equally incensed, asking how he could even _question_ this when it was so obviously right there in front of him. Why he’d even be weighing up the opinions of other people, when he could _see_ they were bullshit. Why he was hesitating, when he _knew_ he should go to Steve.

When he had a growing, primal feeling that Steve _should_ be here right now…

So, which of these voices was the madness, then? Which was he supposed to be paying attention to, and which was he supposed to be looking beyond?

Okay, well, he’d slipped from elated to slightly confused… that was progress of a sort, right?

Begrudgingly, Tony unwrapped himself from the sheets. More soberly, he recognised that he couldn’t offer to look after Steve forever – not yet. And not in case he didn’t really want to. Just in case wanting to wasn’t enough. Just because he loved Steve too much to take a risk like that… even if it didn’t _feel_ like risk.

But… he did have to look after Steve now.

He _was_ still sure of that – and more to the point, he literally couldn’t think of anything else he might care about. He couldn’t even act as though he wasn’t devoted to Steve, because he couldn’t imagine what the fuck he’d do, if not this… And he couldn’t see how it could possibly be _wrong_, to think about Steve’s needs right now, whatever else came to him later…

Okay.

He was going to shower.

He was going to change these sheets.

And then he was going to give some serious thought to the talk he’d just suggested.

He was going to think of all the things Steve might be feeling, and all the questions he might have, and all the different options Tony could offer him. He was going to think, as objectively as he could, of all the different ways it could go, and how he should play it… He was going to try and think of a structure for all of this – Steve would want that. Steve found a framework helpful… Tony knew that…

Tony was going to help Steve _today_.

At least all the voices in his head could agree on that one. 

*

By the time Steve and Tony ‘bumped into’ each other again, early that afternoon, they’d both been wandering around the tower for at least an hour - just waiting for this moment to happen. When it did, it was in the top floor breakroom. The same room where everything had cracked in the first place.

Tony had felt far less sure, in the seconds before. By then, he’d almost worked himself back to self-loathing and self-doubt, actively telling himself that he was an idiot for getting caught up in this, that he _had_ to put a stop to it before he caused more damage-

And then there was Steve… and it all _seemed_ much simpler, at least.

Watching Steve’s eyes light up when he walked into the room, the way he straightened – _nervously_ – when he saw Tony… The sudden stab of feeling in Tony’s chest was beyond any intellectual argument he’d formed, a moment ago. Even without any logical explanation, contrary to all accepted ideas of Captain America or himself, Tony had an immediate understanding that Steve was lost and that only he could help…

An instinctive determination to protect Steve, the moment he saw that he needed it…

He would’ve run with it.

There was another reality, where everything worked out differently, in which Tony Stark reached out to Steve then – strong enough and calm enough to endure any emotional reaction, kind and patient enough to see Steve through it… A reality in which everything was made right, right then.

But not this reality.

In this reality, before Tony could tell Steve how glad he was to see him, JARVIS had already piped up,

“Nicholas Fury is here to see you, sir.”

Both Steve and Tony jumped a little at that. Steve, with an air of mild alarm – Tony with a generally impatient affect.

_Really? Now?_

“Here where?” Tony sighed, reluctantly glancing away from Steve.

“Here.” Came the answer – in Nick’s voice rather than JARVIS’, as he strolled into the breakroom. Tony looked up at him, and remembered his general feeling of injustice at basically everything Fury tried to do…

But he didn’t feel it.

Mainly, right now, he felt vaguely irritated and inherently superior. The way he might’ve felt about a baby crying when he was trying to work.

_Just get rid of him, so you can talk to Steve_.

“And _why_ are you here…?” Tony asked, without missing a beat. Fury might even have paused for half a second, at Tony’s impassive tone… But Tony didn’t notice.

“Taking you up on your offer.” Nick informed him brightly, by way of correcting himself. Tony just blinked.

“My offer?”

“Your very wise idea to have all of The Avengers under one roof.” Nick reminded him, stepping closer.

Tony frowned. And then, as the memory came back to him, it melted into a defeated sigh.

Oh, yeah. So he had.

Back when he’d been anxious about Steve moving in. A throwaway comment that he’d made out of hysterical desperation, out of some vain hope that he could dilute the intensity of Steve…

Well. He regretted that now. Especially if it was going to disrupt things _right now._

Another version of Tony would’ve hit back in that moment, simply to try and balance out his anger – and it wouldn’t have worked, obviously. If Tony _had_ been angry at Nick’s imposition, or his entitlement, then no amount of sulking or snarking or lashing out would’ve remedied it. Reacting would’ve just made him feel small and dirty, after the fact.

But, as it happened, Tony _wasn’t_ angry right now. He was too focussed on the things that were actually important, to direct that much emotional energy at Nick. For Nick, Tony was just mildly put out…

“You want The Avengers to move into The Tower?” Tony clarified, curtly. Nick raised his eyebrows, in another gesture Tony couldn’t be bothered to make a note of.

“The Avengers _are_ moving into the Tower.” Nick corrected – his voice more assured than his expression.

“Excuse _you_?” Steve spoke up, suddenly.

Tony and Nick both took a little step back. Nick, because he was surprised. Tony, because he was _touched_.

“Did you just _inform_ him of who is going to be moving in with him?” Steve went on, in the same incredulous tone, and there was such a swell of affection in Tony that it blotted out everything else. He was still smiling at Steve while Nick collected himself, and then asserted,

“He offered.”

And then Steve looked at Tony. For confirmation, for permission, for guidance… Tony couldn’t say, exactly. It didn’t matter. The point was that Steve looked to _him_.

He was immediately and instinctively moved by the idea that Steve would hurt for him, that he’d _want_ to stand up for him – but equally immediate was the need to protect Steve from it. The awareness that Steve shouldn’t _have_ to stand up for him… That it was Tony’s role to calm this down, now that Steve might get upset.

“I did say that.” He admitted, softly. And then he looked back at Nick, his voice cool and conciliatory when he added, “And _you_ said it wasn’t necessary…”

“A week is a long time in politics” Nick answered, bluntly. “And, as of this week, the international community would feel better if The Avengers had an official base…”

Tony couldn’t stop himself from smiling. _Got yourself into an awkward situation you can’t handle on your own...?_ But, as satisfying as it would have been to say that out loud, he bit his tongue.

“Okay, fine.” Tony agreed, with a professional sort of abruptness. “Tell me the date, you can move everyone in-”

“Oh, everyone is already on the 34th floor” Nick informed him, with a blasé that Tony knew was a part of the act.

And, okay, _that_ annoyed Tony, a little. Just because he’d wanted to talk to Steve, right now – and interrupting that was about the only way Nick could’ve sparked a reaction. Tony might’ve called Nick a bossy fucker, for that…

But he could feel Steve moving to stand beside him…

“Fine.” Tony sighed. And then he looked back to Steve. “Excuse me a moment. I’m just going to let everyone know where their rooms are.”

Because it was only meant to be a moment…

*

Tony had let Steve know that he didn’t have to go and welcome the team. That Tony would do that for him… But Steve had vaguely remembered a sense of duty about these things, and he still wanted to stay close to Tony – so he’d gone.

He regretted that choice as soon as he saw Clint wave at him – as soon as he realised, he had to think of how to respond to it… This inconsequential little gesture was Steve’s first interaction with the real world since he’d so spectacularly crashed out of it. Simply acknowledging it meant Steve had to think about who Clint was and what he was communicating… what he’d be expecting Steve to do…

Who he expected Steve to be…

Steve wanted to look to Tony again… And a moment ago, he could’ve done that anyway, even though he hadn’t worked out whether it was okay. But now he was back in a reality where you couldn’t do things that weren’t okay, where you had to _think_ what you were doing... Seeing people that weren’t Tony, Steve remembered that he couldn’t just _be_, and know that the world would understand and help him and love him anyway… That had only been true for as long as the world was just the two of them. Other worlds didn’t work that way… _the _world didn’t work that way…

It wasn’t a philosophical confusion anymore; it was a practical question. In that moment, Steve had to decide whether he was going to run with his sudden new perspective, or whether he was going to actively hide it. Just one fork in a complex journey, but an important one.

Because Steve really felt like he _could_ just defer to Tony now, that he’d only have to look at Tony for Tony to know that he still felt lost… He didn’t doubt that Tony would help him. And he _didn’t_ care whether the others saw it, or what they thought about it, or even what it really meant…

But he might care later…

And it might hurt other people… It might just be _wrong…_

And he still didn’t know how Captain America could feel this way…

He knew there was a way he was _supposed_ to act…

In the end, Steve wasn’t quite brave enough.

He smiled at Clint, and then at the others, and said hi. That was all. But Steve knew, even as he blushed though it, that it had been important.

He’d had a chance to trust this instinct – and he hadn’t. 

It wasn’t the sudden flash of panic that he’d been expecting, or the unstoppable crumbling of all his mental walls. Just the slow, cooling realisation that everything was much more complicated than it had seemed… that his previous faith in this new feeling wasn’t as solid has he’d thought, that it wasn’t immune to doubt.

And he still loved Tony. That hadn’t wavered yet – that hadn’t even come into it.

He was still sure he wanted to surrender to Tony completely.

But a few hours ago he’d been thinking about it as though it was actually possible, whether he knew it or not. It had seemed like an alternative theory on the world, equally viable, equally valid. And now he knew that his first reality still had the seniority. That, come the first tiny little test, Steve had deferred to the status quo. That his default was to play the role – that he just _couldn’t really do this._

It wasn’t that Steve didn’t want this. He’d just remembered that he couldn’t have it.


	2. Chapter 2

Of course, Steve and Tony never did have that talk.

It started out that Tony was just waiting for the right moment. He’d picked up on Steve’s rising anxiety, as he’d helped the others move their stuff…_ to be expected, _Tony had told himself, nervously. Because, by then, his own sense of confidence was beginning to flicker in a similar sort of way. He was looking at it with increasingly sober eyes, able to see more flaws in the logic of it.

Eventually, Tony had realised that he didn’t magically know how to comfort or care for Steve…

That, in the harsh light of day, it made no sense that Steve would want that…

That maybe he was about to make everything worse…

So, although he’d still wanted to go to Steve, and was still sure he _should_ talk to Steve, eventually… He’d chickened out, really, and called it ‘waiting until Steve was less anxious’. And waiting until Steve didn’t seem so anxious had turned into waiting until the next day. And waiting until the next day had turned into waiting for a good day… Tony just kept waiting for a moment when Steve seemed less closed off, a moment when they could take some real, undisturbed time, a moment that might’ve made it a bit easier…

Until it was three weeks later, and _the talk_ had gone from something they were going to do, to something they just hadn’t done.

Tony first accepted this fact while he was working in the lab – he recognised that his internal monologue had shifted again. A few weeks ago, he’d spent his evenings agonising over what to say. That had eventually become a debate over whether he should push _the talk_ at all. And now, apparently, he’d moved on to berating himself for his failure. He’d spent the last hour asking himself how he could’ve let that night slip away, into something they just didn’t talk about… accepting that was what had happened.

Tony let his shoulders slump, and closed down all his holograms with a wave of his hand. He’d been looking right through them anyway. And he knew he’d come to the lab to hide rather than work, so why bother with the pretence?

He was hiding from the fact that Steve was hiding from him.

In the weeks since ‘The Event’, as Tony had dubbed it, Steve had managed to avoid ever being alone with Tony. Which, obviously, could only be intentional, by now. And no amount of wishful thinking could get Tony to any other conclusion – Steve clearly just didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t want to acknowledge this…

Steve didn’t want this.

And Tony really didn’t know how he _was_ coping with that. He spent most of the time feeling like he was wired into a bomb, just waiting for the slightest shift to set it all off. Like any minute now this rejection would become complete and his heart would shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.

The self confidence and feeling of calm had well and truly faded, in the last three weeks. As had the feeling of strength, and any idea that maybe he wasn’t a blood sucking monster.

It was just the devotion to Steve that stubbornly lingered.

Tony rubbed his eyes, and looked up at the ceiling, and prepared himself to re-tread the same run of thoughts he’d been through a thousand times this month.

_I can’t actually be in love with Steve, I barely know him._

_Except for the last three weeks you’ve been watching him as though you were planning to write your fucking thesis on him, and you do know that he’s subtly snarky, and quietly thoughtful, and funny, and smart, and strangely shy, that he loves animals and learning new things and that you always feel safe around him…_

_Yeah, but you didn’t know that, three weeks ago. So that can’t explain this feeling – which is far too intense to be real._

_But if you’re going to feel it forever, doesn’t that make it real?_

_Did I like Steve, before all this? Did I already love him?_

Blah, blah, blah…

Tony would like to say he was getting bored of cycling though all of this, again and again… but he wasn’t.

_Frustrated_, maybe…

_So_ frustrated…

But even _that_ was complicated, now. Tony felt like he should at least be able to accept that he was _attracted_ to Steve. He was sure that had nothing to do with ‘The Event’ – that there was nothing controversial or confusing about wanting to fuck Steve Rogers. He’d definitely felt that, before. He didn’t _have_ to figure out whether he loved Steve to know he wanted him, he didn’t have to wonder if he was _addicted_ to Steve, or _enthralled_ by Steve, or any other weird shit, to make sense of that. Tony should at least be able to take a break from all this relentless analysis and indulge in a simple fantasy-

But there were no simple fantasies, anymore.

Everything was all just tangled into this same mess. This confused longing and primal feeling of loss had soaked into everything, it altered everything he was and did and thought about.

He couldn’t see Steve’s body the same way now. He couldn’t unsee the power of it and the potential of it, he couldn’t force himself to ignore all that and simply think of it as beautiful. He couldn’t forget that taste. He couldn’t separate his desires. He couldn’t keep running from the idea that his bloodlust was inherently sexual, or that his sexuality was now defined by an animal need for blood – and he certainly couldn’t face it. It was hard enough to process that as it was, without making it creepier.

And he couldn’t think about fucking Steve, without thinking of how much he’d like to sink his teeth into his shoulder again. How he would like to bite Steve’s arms, and his chest, and his thighs… How he still had that strange understanding of how these things worked… that all these bites would be different, that there were so many things he could do to Steve… So many ways he could make him feel good…

So, no, _that_ wasn’t simple.

And, to confuse things further, Tony didn’t _want_ anonymous, contextless, purely functional sex with Steve. Which was not even, _it’s not what I really want_ – he didn’t want that _at all_. It would have been an entirely separate fantasy, about an unrelated and irrelevant act. About as much use to Tony as imaging Steve playing tennis. It just wasn’t the same thing.

What Tony wanted was to take all of this need, and all of this love, and give it all to Steve. There was just no version of this in which Tony didn’t give himself to Steve completely, there was just no point if he couldn’t tell Steve he loved him and promise him the world. When he thought about biting Steve it was always caring, and giving, and what Steve wanted – _that_ was the point. And, as much as Tony would like to sit here and daydream about all of that, it only led to him thinking again.

_I can’t really love Steve_

_I do really love Steve_

_It can’t be real_

_It’s literally really happening, right now_

Blah. Blah. Blah. 

Tony let go of an exasperated groan. He couldn’t quite believe that his whole life had come to this, so quickly.

He remembered finally walking back into his own home after Afghanistan, thinking that was the moment he’d been dreaming of for months, the moment everything would be okay – the end of that ordeal. And then he’d seen one of the photographs he had stuck to his fridge. A picture Pepper had taken on the Stark Industries yacht just a few months earlier. Tony, sitting on the deck in a pair of shorts, flashing Pepper a stupid grin… Tony, sitting in the sun, his chest unscarred, showing his perfect, human teeth without a care in the world…

And he’d realised that he would _never_ sit in the sun again.

That this ordeal would never be over, that this moment wasn’t the end of anything, just the start of something worse. He’d snatched the picture down, unable to look at it anymore… unable to tear it up. In the end he’d stuffed it into a drawer…where it probably still was… and then went to his workshop and got very, very drunk. He’d known even then that his life was over, that whatever came afterwards was something else, something darker… He’d accepted it, sadly. He even thought he’d made his peace with it. Found a way to turn this twisted non-life into something positive, built a type of confidence in the things he was doing…

And then there was Steve.

And now there was this ominous feeling that it had finally come for his mind. A fear so deep and basic that he knew it could only be the end of the road. He’d managed to put it off, he’d focused all his loathing onto his body… he’d relied on his mind to get him through this. For as long as he could design himself solutions, reason his way out of a panic, decide which thoughts to bury… But now he couldn’t make sense of his thoughts, or his feelings… Like he was actually _becoming_ a vampire…

Like that might actually feel _right _to him, now…

And then, of course, he had to recoil from it. He _had_ to – he couldn’t be losing his mind. He had to convince himself that it was a temporary delirium, a mood he was in, something he was making into more than it was. That he’d managed to revert back to his ordinary self the first time he’d tried Steve’s blood, that eventually these feelings would fade-

And like a flash of blinding light, it struck him.

_I’ve tried Steve’s blood before_.

Tony was immediately furious with himself for not thinking of it earlier. Shocked at his own clueless – minded to have a firm word with himself later, for this one… but right now, of all the thousands of new questions that could be occurring to him, only one seemed important-

That meant Nick had access to Steve’s blood two years before Steve was found – so, how?

There was a collection of unfinished ideas… That Nick had lied about when Steve was discovered, that SHIELD had been experimenting on a sleeping Captain America for years before they’d woken him up, that Nick was lying to _Steve_ about something-

His blood flashed hot. His muscles seized in temper.

For the first time in three weeks, Tony was broken out of his mental spiral. A shiny new idea had his attention, now.

He stood up, and went to find Nick.

*

Steve wasn’t hiding from Tony.

Well, he _had _avoided being alone with Tony… but that wasn’t about hiding from Tony. He’d tried to avoid being left alone with _anyone_, particularly anyone who might be bold enough to ask a personal question – because he was hiding from _himself_.

It’d started with a sense of shame, for turning away from Tony, that first night… and still, that cold, sad ache to run to him… It was like those feelings had taken root, right then, and started to grow.

For a few days, it felt a lot like _coming down_ from something. He felt empty, and dirty, and sporadically tearful… and small. In those few days Steve dearly wanted to talk to Tony, at least as a general idea… but then, whenever it came to an opportunity, he’d realise he had no idea what he was going to say – what he was _allowed_ to say… And he’d run. He kept thinking, maybe, _whatever this was_ hadn’t had a chance to wear off, that maybe it wasn’t _a little later_ enough. Perhaps he should wait until he didn’t feel so emotional – perhaps _Tony_ was waiting for something…

But it just went on.

And now, three weeks later, Steve didn’t feel especially emotional – now, he just felt sort of dead inside. 

But then, he was sure he remembered feeling like that anyway, before any of this happened. So.

Steve had taken to hiding in the library, since everyone else moved in. It was about the only place in The Tower he could be reasonably sure no one would wander into. The first few times he’d even gone through the motions of picking up a book, staring at the first page for a while – but these days, he just sat in the corner and gazed out of the window, feeling hollow and thinking of Tony.

Even from this high up, he’d seen Clint and Nat leave for the evening. Clint only lived in The Tower on paper. He spent most of the day here, and occasionally stayed overnight – but usually, he left at about this time. Sometimes on his own, or sometimes Nat would go with him, and come back saying she’d already eaten. Steve tried to work up the energy to wonder about it, just for the sake of something else to think about-

But he didn’t care.

His only observation about it now was that the gym was probably empty. That maybe he could go and do something else for a while, without risking a softly-spoken, well-meaning question from Nat. He tried not to wish they hadn’t moved in. It seemed mean-spirited, and fundamentally un-Captain-America-like. Entirely unfair to his friends, who were doing nothing wrong by being here.

It wasn’t their fault that their sudden arrival had shifted everything.

It had made the decision for him, in a way. At least, it had forced him to make the decision for himself, before he was ready to do it. His inability to decide had become a decision in favour of the status quo. A failure to choose to change it.

Maybe it would’ve been different, if it’d been 1943. Or if Steve had been here just a bit longer, even. If he hadn’t been unsure about everything anyway. If he’d had _any_ idea how to just have a normal conversation with any of them. Perhaps if Steve could’ve been sure who he was, if there had been people who had a real and nuanced view of him, if he knew how to make small talk _without_ referring to a brand – maybe then, he could’ve found a way to fit this thing with Tony into it. Perhaps he could’ve made it through that first night, without having to just become Captain America again.

But now that the others were here, he could only _be_ Captain America – because that’s all he knew.

Which meant he spent so much of his time being someone – _something _– who could never have this.

Shouldn’t _want_ this.

And sometimes, when he couldn’t stop himself, he thought about what it would be like, to say any of this out loud. To explain it to Nat, or Fury, or The Council, or the press.

_Actually, I belong to Tony Stark, now._

_All I want is to please Tony, to be good for him._

_And sometimes, all I want is to lay all of myself out for him, and let him take whatever he wants_

_And sometimes, all I want is for him to comfort me, and hold me, and take care of me_

_And sometimes, I need him to hurt me._

He never got as far as actually picturing anyone’s reactions – he couldn’t bear to. But he _knew_ that it would more than shock them, any of them, to hear all of that. They would wonder who he _was_, now. They would question everything they thought they knew about him. They would build a whole different persona, based on this scary, dark idea…

Not that he would’ve told Bucky most’ve that. He’d been close to Bucky – but not quite that close… But at least he could’ve talked about it, generally. If Bucky had discovered _any_ of this, it still wouldn’t have made him question all the years of Steve he’d seen, all the unrelated qualities he knew Steve had.

But no one here knew him, and no one here could help him – well, no one except Tony…

But he couldn’t _have_ Tony…

So, in the end he just went down to the gym.

*

Up until now, Tony had had two distinct impressions of Nick – and two distinct impressions of himself, in front of Nick.

At one time, Tony had seen Nick as an arrogant bully – one who’d always had the upper hand. He’d seen Nick take control of his life by force, assert a set of principles, decide for Tony who Tony really was. And, in front of that Nick, Tony had been belittled, and infuriated, and powerless.

And then, as soon as he’d tasted Steve’s blood, Tony had just seen a pompous old man. Obviously posturing, and mostly getting it all wrong… but probably well intentioned, and ultimately unimportant. In front of _that_ Nick, Tony had been superior, and amused, and distant.

And _now_… now, there was a third thing.

He found Nick in one of the thirtieth-floor offices. One of the private offices, with a door – which was useful, Tony noted, with a dark sort of calm.

Nick was standing in front of the desk, resting his weight on it with one hand, a bored look on his face as he listened, silently, to his cell phone. When he saw Tony confidently stroll in, and _lock_ the door behind him, his expression sharpened into an incredulous disdain-

And sort of… _froze_ like that…

He ended his call without another word, and left it just a second too long before he demanded,

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

And it _wasn’t_ quite aggressive enough. Tony did pick up on that, even in the moment. He just didn’t care.

“The blood you gave me, back when I had palladium poisoning, was Steve’s blood” Tony informed him, his voice low and _very_ calm. “I want to know how you had _several_ flasks of Steve Rogers’ blood, two years before they found him.”

“…What makes you think it was Rogers bl-”

“I’m a vampire. I know whose blood it was.” Tony cut him off, his voice like a warning. And then he fixed Nick with a direct stare, and took a step forward. “_How_?”

“…I can’t tell you that” Nick answered…carefully.

_Nervously_.

And then Tony took one more step, grabbed hold of the front of Nick’s shirt with one hand, and threw him up against the wall with a dull bang. He had a list of articulate and terrifying threats prepared-

“_Your dad had samples of it from the war”_ Nick babbled, immediately, so rapid and panicked there were barely gaps between the words.

Something about that struck Tony as inherently _wrong_…

“You know a lot about _my _dad, don’t you, Nick?” Tony observed, low and cruel. He watched Nicks eyes widen, he swore he could feel his heart beating there under his hand.

“I, n-not really, no-”

“Just saying all that to be spiteful, back when we met?” Tony taunted “Bit personal, that…”

“…I’m sorry” Nick’s voice was barely a whisper

And suddenly it dawned on Tony what was so wrong about all of this. It wasn’t anything that Nick was saying – it was that Nick shouldn’t be reacting like this at all. Nick Fury had faced down scarier things than Tony, and never once dropped the act… Nick Fury shouldn’t be wet eyes and pleading, for _anyone_…

Hm…

Tony dropped Nick. But he didn’t step away. He watched very carefully, as Nick tried to shrink away from him, in what little space he’d left between himself and the wall.

“I don’t really care how you try to fuck with me, Nick” He explained, his voice cold, and clear. “But I’m just telling you _once_ – if you ever try to fuck with Steve. If I find out you’ve lied to him, or used him, in _any way_. If you ever _once_ try to put him down, or bully him, the way you did me – I will do something _far worse_ than kill you.” And he made sure Nick saw him drop his eyes to his neck. “I will make you just. Like. Me.”

Nick actually whimpered. Very quietly. But he definitely did.

And that struck Tony as...

_Interesting_…

He turned and left the office without another word.

*

Tony marched straight back to his workshop, his synapses firing.

First, he made sure that he was _absolutely _sure that no one had messed with Steve…

But no. He felt absolutely sure that Nick hadn’t just lied to him – that Nick really had been scared of him, just a moment ago.

And he was sure that wasn’t _normal._

It wasn’t just that it was Nick. Something about Nick’s reaction had felt induced, or artificial, or unnatural, or something… It reminded him of the way he’d seen Steve respond, in the moments after The Event… maybe in the moments leading up to it…

But, of course, it wasn’t _the same_ reaction...

Something about this sparked Tony’s interest as a scientist. He could’ve so easily organised this into an investigation, he could already see the hypothesis forming, he already knew some of the variables…

_Let’s say being a vampire does include some…power, to influence to people…_

_What power, to do what?_

_When does it happen, to who?_

_What effect does it have – and, as that effect apparently varies… according to what…_

But then came the same resistance to this that there had always been. It wasn’t like Tony hadn’t considered _investigating_ his condition before. Scientific investigation was his default solution; objective analysis would usually help him feel in control. And every time the idea had occurred to him, he’d start to picture how he’d do it…

And it always got complicated, so quickly.

‘If vampires have the power to influence people’ wasn’t an objective hypothesis. It could’ve been, if Tony had been investigating an animal or a plant or even an alien, he could’ve written an experiment plan for any of that… and it probably would’ve fit this situation too… But he couldn’t distance himself from it enough. He couldn’t look at that question without spiralling into very unscientific thoughts…

He’d avoided learning anything about himself, ever since Afghanistan. He’d thought about looking into it, he’d posed a few hypothetical questions – but he’d always flinched away. Tony had always wanted to know everything about everything, before… but there was so much he didn’t want to know, about this. Which was immature, and most unlike him… And still tempting, even now.

But.

_If vampires have some power to influence people…_

If he’d had some _influence_ over Steve…

If _he’d_ fucked with Steve…

Then he had a lot of horrible things to feel, later. But, more importantly, he had a lot of things to investigate _now_. It was no longer his choice, whether he wanted to know any of this. It wasn’t only him it affected, anymore. He couldn’t continue to… _influence _Steve, intentionally ignorant of what he was doing or how – keeping _Steve _ignorant of it, never giving him the chance to react…

He _so_ didn’t want to pull on this thread…

_But you promised to look after Steve…_

Well, shit.

“JARVIS… can you pull up everything you can find about vampires?” He groaned, defeated. “And that’s _actual _vampires, obviously…”

“I’ll try, sir – although the distinction between science and mythology isn’t always obvious, on this particular topic…”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to make this too easy, now would we?” Tony mocked, joylessly.

Tony already knew that vampires were incredibly rare, and that, unsurprisingly, most of them were secretive. They weren’t the type to run helpful support blogs. They were more likely to be scouring the internet, removing references to themselves and their ‘condition’, lest any mere mortal stumble across their secrets… Yinsen had told him that. He really _should_ force himself to think back to that horrifying, painful night and try to pick out some of the awful things Yinsen had told him, in case they were useful-

“There are still the books Miss Potts acquired for you…” JARVIS cut in to remind him. Tony huffed out another groan. Oh yeah. The books.

He’d had a particularly embarrassing temper tantrum, when Pepper had come to him with that mouldy stack of books. That was about three months after he came back from Afghanistan, when Tony permanently felt as though he was two seconds from breaking out into hysterical screaming. Pepper had spent most of that time painstakingly sourcing what little information there was out there, but he’d been in no state to appreciate the kind intentions. He just really hadn’t wanted to know. Especially not from a pile of old _books_ – some of which genuinely had titles like ‘Ye Vampyr’.

“I take it those are all still in Malibu…?” Tony sighed, already wondering when he could fit that trip in.

“Actually, I believe they were part of the collection that was used to populate the library here.” JARVIS informed him.

“Remind me again why we even have a library?” Tony commented lightly. A meaningless joke to himself. He already knew why the tower had a library – because he had, impulsively, decided to add one at the last minute, when he was a little bit tipsy and giving it very little thought.

“Because you thought Captain Rogers might like it.” JARVIS failed to spot that the question had been hypothetical.

Which he only ever did on purpose, by the way. 

*

The following morning, Steve began to sleepwalk through his usual routine. Check his messages – none. Check in with SHIELD – no missions or meetings today. Shower, dress, think about getting breakfast… skip it, because the breakrooms are always full of people in the morning, and someone will talk to him. Decide to wander to the library instead, because no one ever goes there.

Except, today, Tony is there.

Sitting at the smaller table, with a little stack of leather-bound books. His eyes are dark and heavy, his hair wild in that way it gets when he’s been working for hours, because he has that habit of running his hands through it while he thinks… He looked _ethereal_, sitting under the strange light that filtered through the special windows in The Tower… _Beautiful_…

Steve’s heart lodged painfully in his throat, as a chain reaction of frantic responses ran through his body like a sinister version of Mouse Trap.

He was _overjoyed_ to see Tony.

He was darkly relieved, that this thing he’d been dreading was finally here.

He was ashamed, that he hadn’t spoken to Tony properly in almost a month.

He was electric with nerves.

And then Tony looked up, his eyes suddenly brightening, a surprised little smile flickering briefly on his lips-

And then he looked down at the table, and pinched his lips together, as he closed the book in front of him and pushed it aside.

Steve felt it like a knife between his ribs. He so nearly said, _please, Tony, don’t- _But don’t what? Don’t be angry with me? Don’t be sad? Don’t get over this and draw away from this and pretend it never happened – and do what instead?

If he could’ve just worked out what it was instead. If he could’ve found the words for what he was feeling, or picture what it would look like, when it wasn’t the specific thing he could picture so easily… If he’d even known what to _ask_ _for_.

But it wasn’t just, _bite me, again._ Yeah, he _did_ want that… but if he said that, it would brand it all wrong from the start. Make it sound as though he was only interested in the physicality of it, boil it down to one illicit act. Even if Tony did it… what then? Did they just go back to this awkward silence afterwards? Did they end up in an arrangement where they just did _that_ sometimes… That wasn’t enough. Steve wasn’t even sure if that was good. And he couldn’t explain that it was more than that, because he still didn’t know what more it was.

He couldn’t say, _I want you to look after me_ – because it wasn’t just that, either. That made it sound like some needy, selfish thing, something pathetic and entitled… He thought of adding ‘sometimes’, but that didn’t feel quite right either. Because whatever that thing was, he wanted it always… he did want to know that Tony was _always_ looking after him, that he was always that person… But he _really_ didn’t want to be Tony’s responsibility, or his dependant, and not only because it sounded weak – because it wasn’t right. It wasn’t _it._

He didn’t want to submit to Tony and surrender to Tony completely… well, he _did_… But what did that mean, in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday? He knew exactly what it meant, when it was just the two of them in a bedroom – he’d imagined _all_ the ways it could make sense, there. And he didn’t want to leave it there. It wasn’t just a sex game or a fantasy or a relief from the day-to-day… but it wasn’t a blueprint for the rest of his life, it wasn’t even a good explanation of what he wanted with Tony, as a whole-

“Hey.” Tony looked up again, with a different smile this time. Friendly enough… but distant. The same smile everyone got…

_Please, Tony, don’t…_

“Hi.” It came out too quietly. Steve could barely hear it himself, over his heart beating in his ears. This was already far worse than he thought it’d be. He’d known, when he saw Tony, he wouldn’t know what to say – but he’d actually forgotten how to speak. He’d forgotten what words he used, what tone he took, what things he’d usually talk about. He couldn’t be _Captain America_, not when it was just the two of them like this… that would be ridiculous. And he couldn’t be… the other thing, because he didn’t know what it was, and-

“How are you?” Tony asked, somewhere between soft and shy. He was doing it too. Not playing the role of Tony Stark – not speaking the way he had, the last time it had been just the two of them.

Steve dropped his eyes. That shouldn’t be a hard question.

_I’m miserable_

_I’m lost_

_I’m so, so sorry_

_I’m confused_

_I’m ashamed_

_I’m in love with you_

“Fine.” Steve managed, trying not to wince. And then he saw Tony’s eyes soften, like he’d found the answer quaint, or something. “You, uh, look tired…” He forced himself on, “You been here all night?”

“Everyone is still really keen for me to go to bed at a normal hour…” Tony answered, slightly more sarcastically.

“Well, people care about you…” Steve told him, in an unnaturally level voice.

“…Yes, but I’m literally a _vampire_.”

Steve almost laughed at that.

Steve remembered the little frisson that used to run through him at moments like this. He remembered the nights before _that _night, when he would pick at these conversations, and try to draw Tony into them, and delight over the details of them.

He realised, suddenly, just how much he missed _Tony_.

Not how much he wanted this new thing with Tony, not how much he missed what Tony had done to him that night, not how much he hated being without him. Outside of all of that, and on top of all of that, there was the perfectly human feeling of sad fondness for the thing they’d had before. Steve had missed sparring with Tony, he’d missed his bright, unusual mind, the lyrical patter of his voice. He’d missed trying not to smile when one of Tony’s punchlines caught him off guard. Trying not to blush when Tony slipped in some subtle kindness that he was hoping no one would notice.

He remembered Tony telling him, way back when they first met, that there were still familiar things in the world, however overwhelmed Steve felt by it. At the time, Steve felt harmlessly comforted by what he assumed was a harmless pleasantry, but now he realised what Tony meant.

He’d been so focused on the parts of this he didn’t understand, he’d convinced himself that he didn’t understand any of it. But there were parts of even _this_ that were familiar. The way he felt when Tony smiled at him, the way he wanted Tony to notice him, the way he cared so deeply about what Tony was thinking… The same as any crush. That he loved Tony for being so bright, and so brave, and so different to everyone else… The same as loving anyone. This actually had so many elements he recognised, all the hallmarks of affection and attraction as he’d always known them-

There was just this other thing on top.

“But you don’t sleep during the day.” Steve reminded him, maybe just a little more himself now that revelation was working its way through…

And then he noticed Tony gathering up two of the books in front of him, and his heart just sank.

“I do so.” Tony informed him, with exaggerated haughtiness, as he stood up.

_Please Tony, don’t…_

“Just watch me” Tony finished the joke, as he walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

“Here’s my question, JARVIS” Tony announced, dramatically, the moment he stormed through the door of his workshop “Since my lungs literally don’t do anything until I want to speak or blow up balloons, and since my heart does the same phone-it-in five beats a minute no matter _what_ I do – why do I feel out of breath right now?”

“Is that the new line of investigation, sir?” JARVIS enquired, dryly.

“No.” Tony told him – breathlessly “No, I’ve got enough to investigate as it is.”

He threw his two books down on the workbench, and flopped into a chair, exhausted. There were so many things competing for his attention, right now.

_That was Steve._ His Steve, looking lost and nervous and… beautiful.

And distant, and stoic, and… ‘fine’, and… _he doesn’t want you_

And for all of that Tony still felt terrible for not putting his arms around him, feeling so much like he _should _have done it.

But he couldn’t, because of all these things he didn’t know yet.

Because if he was able to control people, however subtly… If he’d somehow artificially induced that reaction from Steve… and that was why he was avoiding Tony now…

_If he never wanted to do that and can’t understand why he did that and wishes he hadn’t done that…_

_If I made him think and feel things… God, that’s actually worse than forcing someone to do things, and that’s-_

He flinched away from the thought. Investigate first. _Then_ die of horror and shame.

“Okay, JARVIS, scan for any mention anywhere of the word Atigeron – I’ve no idea if that’s how you say it. _Apparently_, it’s the English translation of a Dari word that isn’t a word…” Tony sighed, throwing a dirty look at the books he’d brought with him.

One was the only English book in the collection – although, as it’d clearly been written a thousand years ago, it wasn’t an English that Tony found easy to read. He’d had more luck with the one in Dari. Still in the library were two books in Medieval Italian, which he’d sort of struggled through, a book in Mandarin that made no sense even when translated, and a book in Hungarian – and Tony didn’t speak Hungarian, so that one stayed at the bottom of the pile.

Tony had never found anything as arduous as trying to read those books.

And, to make it worse, he had nothing to show for it. A few cryptic clues that created more anxiety than they eased. He felt like he’d made the mistake of googling his symptoms; he’d given himself so many new things to worry about and still no way to be sure. Probably without any way to be sure _ever_, because he already knew there would be more information in books than on the internet. Vampires throughout history might’ve allowed a few limited print textbooks to slip though, back when such things could be locked in a tower, but he’d already learned that very little of it was ever allowed into general circulation.

At some point, he should really apologise to Pepper for the temper tantrum, and thank her for finding these.

“Atigeron, or Atigeron Acchain, a phrase used to describe the unique bond between Vampire and patron-”

“Yeah, I got that far from the books, thanks” Tony cut him off, cringing so hard he could’ve turned himself inside out.

_Patron_?

The books were at least kind enough to describe it as _A vampire and the person he feeds from_. And that’d seemed pretty cringey, at the time – but _patron_? That was… so much worse.

“I mean, is there any information out there about what this… _bond_, is? Is it a… physical thing, or a mental thing, or a… _supernatural_ thing…” Oh, he hated himself. His skin was actually trying to crawl away from him. “Is it… is this something I’m… _doing_ to him…”

He braced himself. All he had gleaned from the books was that it was very _special_, unique and powerful and lots of things he didn’t need to hear JARVIS explain to him. The books were all very poetic on the subject (or, in the case of the Mandarin book, truly surreal…) but what they lacked were details.

Details like, was he essentially getting Steve drunk and taking advantage of him? Stuff like that.

“Scanning now” JARVIS replied, ever cheerful. Tony glared at the books one final time, before he added,

“This one mentions… it says something like ‘and a person who is bitten willingly is forever altered’… so, altered how…?” Which was a question he hadn’t known to worry about, before he googled his symptoms. But really, who writes something like that and doesn’t go into details?

“I believe, sir, that this may be of some interest” JARVIS suggested, as a holographic screen flashed up in front of him.

At a glance, it was a poorly scanned copy of an old research paper – Tony guessed 80s, or maybe 70s, from the font. The smears it’d collected made it hard to scan-read, but Tony could make out from the introductory paragraph that it was a comparative study done on a drug he’d never heard of.

“Amavine?” He queried, still squinting at the image in front of him.

“All scans suggest that such a drug never existed – I can find no other reference to it in any other database” JARVIS informed him.

“No previous research, no patents, no legal stuff for this study…?” Tony thought aloud. So, this research paper was a cover for something, or a code for something…

“There is no mention of this research paper, anywhere else” JARVIS clarified “It only exists as part of a very small online archive – a collection of documents recently digitised by a local government authority in Essex, England. This is only the third time this page has been accessed since it was posted.”

“And why do you think this is relevant?” Tony frowned.

“Because the two subjects in this study are identified only as Atigeron and Acchain, and it was written by Professor Ho Yinsen.” JARVIS answered.

And Tony smiled.

He knew that Yinsen must’ve written this long before he’d even heard of Tony Stark – but, looking at it, Tony still felt like Yinsen was talking to _him_. He read it now in Yinsen’s firm and patient tone, he could picture the quiet kindness on his face. Tony _knew_ that Yinsen had written this to help someone. This ‘research paper’ was a thinly veiled letter, to someone scared and confused and with no one to ask. Designed to hide in plain sight, without drawing any attention, maybe so that he could send it somewhere, or so that someone specific could find it, or keep it without fear. Someone just like Tony…

It suddenly didn’t seem so hard, to think back to that first night. To picture the sad hope in Yinsen’s eyes, as he struggled bravely on with his explanations. Just _hoping_ that some of it was getting through – accepting that was all he could do, in the time he had left. Yinsen had always seemed to accept what he was, to find some purpose in sharing it. At the time, Tony had only felt a vague sort of disgust at that. A determination to never accept this awful thing, to never share any part of it with anyone. But now…

Being like Yinsen really wasn’t so bad…

“I take it you’ve read this?” Tony asked, because trying to make out the low definition image was giving him a headache.

“Assuming that Atigeron is being used as a stand in for _vampire_, and Acchain is being used in place of Patron-”

“_Person he’s feeding from”_

“…And assuming that Amavine is, in fact, the blood of _said person_, then I believe the conclusion you are interested in is that you are probably having no effect on Captain Rogers capacity.”

“…Yeah?” Tony prompted. There was a little pang of nausea that threated to turn into a body blow of sheer _relief_ – just as soon as Tony was sure of that.

“_The actual physiological effects of Amavine only last for, at most, 24 hours, and do not take effect until the drug is fully absorbed – _reading between the lines, sir, I’d say that means you had no effect on him before you bit him, and therefore cannot have corrupted his decision to do it in the first place.”

Tony stood still and let it roll through him, his legs feeling weak, then his stomach turning, and then his ribs easing, until finally his head swam. Oh, he hadn’t taken advantage of Steve, hadn’t _hurt_ him…

Although the news that he’d only been high for 24 hours was a little disconcerting. What the fuck had the last three weeks been about, then?

“Okay, so what _are_ the physiological effects of Amavine?” Tony asked – he liked the anonymous medical code words. He might keep them.

“In the first instance, both Atigeron and Acchain felt a sense of euphoria, similar to that experienced by users of Methylenedioxymethamphetamine...”

Tony couldn’t help smiling as his brain automatically translated it. MDMA. Ecstasy.

“…and a heightened physical sensitivity, which can last, at most, a few hours. In Atigeron, this was replaced by a feeling of calm, and clarity. While Acchain also experienced a feeling of clarity, he also reported a heightened emotional awareness. His experience thereafter was very much dependant on his circumstances, for the remainder of the 24-hour period…”

_I knew I shouldn’t have let him leave, that morning. He should have been with me, all that day…_

_“…It is worth noting”_ JARVIS went on – perhaps pointedly _“that although taking Amavine greatly effects a persons emotional state, and lowers their inhibitions in the immediate short term, neither patient expressed any out of character thoughts, behaviours or desires at any point throughout the study. Emotional responses and phycological reactions should not be confused with an intoxicant effect.”_

“…So blood just makes you do what you want to do anyway?” Tony summarised “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I’m merely reading from the report, sir.” JARVIS replied, knowingly.

The scientist in him pointed out that, objectively, Steve had demonstrated several out of character behaviours. That should count as discrediting evidence…

But Yinsen had put those lines in there to reassure someone of something…

“…And whatever it did to both of us, it’s not still doing it” Tony said, to himself, now. “This is just me having a good old-fashioned freak out…”

“It would seem that, however you’re feeling now, it’s unlikely to be _chemically_ induced.”

Tony stood quietly, and thought for a good, long while….

“Does it say anything about me being able to frighten the life out of Nick Fury, all of a sudden?” He queried.

“…There is nothing that stands out as an obvious metaphor for that.” JARVIS answered, deadpan “There’s no reference to third parties at all.”

“…Is there any reference to after that 24 hours? It keeps talking about the short-term effects, but what about the long-term effects?”

“It would appear those questions are saved for a separate report, not included in the archive”

Tony laughed bitterly. Well. Of course.

So, that left Tony to consider what he had so far.

Well, apparently, he _was_ in his right mind. Whatever this mess was, it was in his actual brain, so there was no point in waiting to sort it out.

However little sense it made, he was infatuated with Steve Rogers… and now that he could stop wondering whether he was mad… it didn’t make _that_ little sense…

Whatever ridiculous stand-off they’d gotten themselves into, it was because they were confused and awkward and anxious, not because they were under the influence of anything.

_And Steve asked me to do it… and apparently that wasn’t because I’d done anything to him…_

And, okay, that could mean any number of things. Steve didn’t have to love Tony, to want to fuck him, or to want Tony to bite him. Steve might not have liked the reality as much as the idea, he might never want to do it again…

_But he did want it, at the time…_

Tony shook that away. That wasn’t the point. The point was that he should go and talk to Steve now. This was just a thing that had happened, and they were rational grown-ups, and they should fix this. If he could be reasonably sure he wasn’t unfairly influencing Steve, then he had no reason not to… No reason to ignore this feeling that he _should_ try to fix this for Steve, that he should have answers for Steve and be patient with Steve and make all of these confusing thoughts easier for Steve… That certainty that had never left him; that he was supposed to take care of Steve.

In the last few weeks Tony had doubted whether he could make that _promise_ to Steve. If it would be fair to let Steve rely on it, forgo anything for it, when Tony had nothing but his own certainty to counter a life-time of criticism. But he’d always _been_ certain. He was always sure he would spend the rest of his life _trying_ to look after Steve, whether or not he could ask Steve to accept it…

_And that’s all in my right mind, is it…?_

“The only note with regards to the long-term effects” JARVIS went on, bringing Tony out of his thoughts. “Is that both subjects had greatly increased life expectancies, as a result of taking Amavine”

And, only a little uncomfortably… Tony did remember that. He remembered Yinsen saying that he wouldn’t reach his natural lifespan, drinking only dead blood. And as Tony had no interest in living beyond ninety – or, really, much beyond the end of that conversation – he’d simply asserted that he was never going to bite a live pig, and gone back to not listening. He _knew_ Yinsen had tried to correct him then, that he’d explained something… but Tony had no idea what it was.

He only remembered… okay, slightly more uncomfortably now… that biting living things was apparently _good_ for him…

For…_both of them…_?

It made no sense any of this would be good for _Steve_… the opposite, surely?

Maybe that was a specific message, for whoever this was really written for-

“Also, Captain Rogers is at the door” JARVIS added, as though it were a minor afterthought.

Tony froze

“What door? This door?” He asked, looking at the entrance to the workshop.

“Should I let him in?” JARVIS asked, by way of an answer.

“Er… yeah… Yes.”

*

Steve _had_ been planning to sit and disappear into his own misery.

He’d watched Tony walk away from the library, away from _him_, and realised that he’d well and truly blown it. That whatever Tony had promised him that night, _Steve _had pushed it away.

Whatever he’d thought in the heat of the moment, he wasn’t enough for Tony Stark – not quick enough to find the words for him, or bold enough to say them, not brave enough to make the choice until it was all too late.

Steve could swear he used to be brave, back when he could be sure of what he was being brave for. He hated the future for taking all his certainties from him, for making him into this pathetic, nervous person. For making him a stranger to himself.

He’d felt his chest ache under the weight of his own failure. He wondered how long it would take to crush him to death.

And then he’d seen the books Tony had left on the table.

He moved to look at them, for no other reason than they were _Tony’s_. The same way he’d have taken Tony’s jacket and breathed it in, if he’d left it. 

The first two were in something like Italian, but not enough like it for Steve to read. The third had a title in Chinese, and that was just out. But Steve had learned Hungarian during the war. Steve understood the words that were embossed on the cover of the final book.

At first, he’d tried to find some meaning in the fact that Tony was researching vampires at all. Desperately scrabbling for some scrap of hope – that maybe, if there was nothing else left, Steve had at least triggered this little curiosity. Maybe that could mean Tony wasn’t just _over_ what had happened, that he at least still thought about it… Something. Anything.

And then, as he’d flicked through the thin, dusty pages, his eyes had caught on an image – and everything just stopped.

A detailed sketch of a woman’s back, with a dark, crescent shaped marks on either shoulder; exactly where Steve’s bruises had been. Beneath it, in tiny little print, was the caption, _Bond bites: intended to cause pleasure, rather than draw blood._

Steve’s skin had flashed hot, his mouth suddenly dry.

_That’s_ what they were?

Steve had spent days watching those marks fade from his shoulders, trying to place the sadness he felt that they were healing. Trying to explain away his sense of calm, when he looked at them – trying to ignore the electric thrill that ran through him, even thinking about them. Trying to work out what they were, if they weren’t just bruises… how anyone, especially Captain America, could feel that much about a _bruise_.

But, apparently, they _weren’t_ just bruises…

They had a _name_.

Steve was possessed by an immediate hopefulness… that maybe this thing was _a thing_. That maybe _it_ had a name, and an explanation, and rules. That, if it already existed, then he wouldn’t have to make sense of what it was – that it wouldn’t matter if it didn’t fit, if it was something real that he could be instead.

And, with that, he’d fallen into Tony’s chair, and started reading – and was enlightened.

_This_.

With every line he read, the feeling grew. The relief of finding this shapeless emotion expressed in exactly the right words.

And, as it turned out, it wasn’t a list of rules and definitions.

It really was more subtle than that, and more nuanced, and Steve wouldn’t have known how to explain all of this to someone who didn’t already know… But reading pages of Hungarian Poetry, he realised, he _knew_ what they were talking about – all of this was written about him-

_Them. _

Steve felt the reassurance of discovering that it wasn’t only him. The sudden thrill of knowing what he wanted – who he _was_.

The baffled disbelief that it hadn’t always been this obvious. It made so much sense, written down this way – it was, exactly, everything he’d felt in the last three weeks… maybe all his life… And _that_ even made sense to him, now.

And then he reached the end of the chapter – and there it was, in black and white.

After all this time wondering what it _meant,_ that he wanted this from Tony. What he and Tony could possibly be to each other, how it could fit… where it could end.

Well, there was his answer.

Not in poetry, this time. This was an uncompromising description of exactly what he would become, what he could _be, _instead of just being Captain America, or even Steve Rogers from Brooklyn.

And _that_ was what he wanted.

More than he’d ever wanted to be any of those things. More than he wanted _anything_. And, rather than wondering if he _should_ want it, or what would happen if he wanted it, Steve was just so happy to know what it was.

When it had been a vague, shadowy idea, Steve had no way to make an argument for it, no way to be sure of how sure he felt. But now that he was looking right at it… everything he’d felt at the time made sense.

And not just that.

It was more than a revelation; it was like a spiritual awakening. A feeling of clarity that didn’t stop with this one issue, or these few months.

All this time he’d been lamenting the loss of his whole life, when that had never been his life at all. Everything up until now had a prelude to this, the backstory to what he was always meant to be. He’d thought that waking up in the future was some impossible tragedy, the end of everything… but it was _meant_ to happen. It was the only way he could be with Tony, it was the only way his story could _begin_… All those lonely nights, wondering _why_… But it was all so that he could have this-

Oh God, what if he couldn’t have this?

He knew that Tony meant it at the time – he’d _promised_, and Steve believed him… but there was so much he’d got wrong since then. What if he’d already ruined everything? What if Tony didn’t feel that way anymore…

And with that, Steve had grabbed the book and gone to find him.

He was done thinking about it.

Even standing at Tony’s door, waiting to see if Tony would let him in, he didn’t doubt what he was there to do. Scared to death he was going to get it wrong, terrified to think what would happen if Tony said no – but completely sure he had to do this.

Because Steve had never been scared of doing the right thing. He’d never hesitated just because it might hurt, or other people might not like it, or because it would change things – he’d only ever worried that he might get it _wrong_. He worried that he might hurt people, or let people down, that he might not live up to the faith that Erskine put in him and only him… And _maybe_, maybe, he’d have stopped, even now, if he’d thought any of that might happen. _Maybe_ he could’ve walked away from something he wanted even this much, if he’d really thought it might hurt other people… which, he guessed, was how Captain America fit into this, after all. How it _could_ be possible for everything he was to fit into everything he was about to become-

Maybe none of this actually contradicted the ideals of Captain America, or even the kid he’d been before that. It had taken this long for him to work out that this didn’t stop him being good, or being Cap, or being Steve – it just made him more than any of that.

He hoped.

God, he didn’t know how much hope could hurt, until he watched the door of Tony’s workshop slide open for him. He actually held his breath as he stepped inside.

And there was Tony.

The beautiful, brilliant man he’d fallen in love with, long before any of this happened.

The person he wanted to belong to forever – and yes, he knew _exactly_ what that meant. He knew how it fit, and what it looked like, and that it was _right_.

He let go of the breath he was holding, and gestured to the book.

“Did you read this?” It was about as confident as Steve had ever sounded, since he woke up in the 21st Century.

Tony blinked, surprised. And then his eyes dropped to the book in Steve’s hand, and his brow creased in confusion… And then there was a little flicker of thought…

“Um, no, actually – not yet” He replied, considering Steve. “…You speak Hungarian?”

“Enough” Steve nodded. He saw Tony’s lips soften into a little smile, like he _liked_ that… but it was gone too quickly. Replaced by a serious expression, as he straightened up and steadied himself. He had the most beautifully expressive eyes. Steve could _see_ all the different thoughts running though his head.

“So, what does that one say?” Tony asked, after a moment.

_Well, here goes…_

“Lots of stuff” Steve began, trying not to blush “…It says that, if you keep biting me, you’ll change me.”

Tony widened his eyes, and swallowed. He took a little step back, as though he was dizzy. Steve wanted so much to reach out to him… But not yet. He had to finish saying this, first.

“It says that lots of vampires find partners that they feed from…and the longer they do that for, the stronger their partner becomes, until eventually… I could live as long as you did.” Steve explained, the oddest flutter of excitement under his skin as he spoke. “Which could be… hundreds of years…”

Tony did step back and fall into sitting against his work desk then; somewhere between a deliberate act and fainting. He looked _devastated_.

“Okay, so when you say…” Tony asked, in a slightly shaky voice “I mean… I can _make_ you immortal, or…”

“Well… I could live as long as _you_ did…” Steve explained, carefully. “If you ever stopped biting me, my body would go back to normal – well, not _normal_, I mean… I mean, for as I’d live anyway, I don’t think it matters… but there would come a point where it was just _you_ keeping me alive, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Wow, this thing’s the gift that keeps on giving, isn’t it?” Tony muttered, bitterly, his eyes on the floor. And then he looked up at Steve, “I’m so sorry Steve, I… didn’t know that, no. And I shouldn’t have messed with something I didn’t know anything about, and…I’m just-”

“But I _want_ that.”

Tony froze, half-way through a word. Steve watched him make several false starts, before he managed to ask,

“…You _want_ that?”

“I want that” Steve confirmed, confidently. He felt so much more assured now that he was there, the way his pre-battle nervousness always disappeared the second the mission actually began. “I want _you_. I want to be _yours_, completely _yours_. Including…_all_ of this. And, yeah, I want to live exactly as long as you do.”

Tony opened his mouth… and closed it, his gaze fixed on Steve. He looked shell-shocked. And then he gave his head a little shake, and rubbed his hand over his eyes.

“Steve…” He sounded something like sad, or resigned… with a residual hint of confusion “I don’t… Do you really know what you’re saying? What any of that means?”

“Tony-”

“No, Steve, hang on, it’s just…” Tony waved him quiet. “…Look, for a start – being a vampire really isn’t like some tween-lit novel. It’s not a gothic fairy tale, it’s… violent, and unnatural, and compromised, and – I absolutely know there are people out there that have asked for this to be done to them, and I even know why, but, God, are they going to regret that…”

“I’m not asking you to turn me into a vampire, Tony-”

“But you are asking me to turn you into something _else_. Something… _inhuman_, and – you’re telling me you’ve really thought about what that means?” Tony demanded, and before Steve could answer him, “And – you are saying you want to be _with_ a vampire, for maybe hundreds of years. That there would be a time when you literally couldn’t leave me without dying. You’ve thought about that?”

“Yeah, I _have_.” Steve confirmed, again, his voice firm – but kind. “I have been thinking about nothing _but_ this for three whole weeks. Longer. Since I met you. I’m not saying this because I want _this thing_ with you, I only want this _because _it’s you. Because I love you, enough that I want to share everything you are, and I want to spend forever with you, and I don’t want to carry on if you aren’t there anyway. _This._” He gestured again to the book he was still holding. “This isn’t what made me want any of this. This just told me what it was I wanted anyway.”

“Steve…” Tony whispered, part hopeful, part helpless “You don’t…_know _me, to know you’d want that, that I could even… You know I’m reckless and irresponsible and almost blow myself up on a bi-weekly basis, right?”

“Yeah, I know – I love you for it.”

“But _would_ you, if when I got myself blown up it meant you withered up and died?”

“I don’t think I’d care _what_ happened to me, if you got blown up – especially if we’d been together long enough for me to be… _witherable_”

And a little laugh escaped Tony, his eyes still smiling as he tried to bite it back. It was absolutely the prettiest thing Steve had ever seen.

“And all of these questions are for my side of this decision, anyway, aren’t they?” Steve pushed, taking a step closer to where Tony was “And I know you trust me to make decisions for the whole world, so you can trust me to say _I _know I want this – and I am so sorry that I haven’t said all of this sooner, but that’s only because I _was_ thinking about it. Because I _do_ know it’s a huge thing to change what I am, and I knew it would change me, before I knew what to. I _knew_ I’d be committing myself to you forever when I came and said this, I just didn’t know how. But I knew it scared me to death. And for all that fear and all that thinking, I still know I want this. And if this isn’t what _you_ want, then-”

“No, Steve-” Tony pushed himself away from his desk and went to walk right over to him – and came to a hesitant stop, just a few feet away. “It’s really not that I don’t want this, _really_, I just can’t bear the thought of hurting you. Not this kind of hurt. And it’s _not_ that I don’t trust you, it’s… How can I let you do something like that?” He caught Steve’s eye, and told him softly. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”

Steve felt all the air in the room rush into his lungs. He felt lightheaded himself, as let the book drop to the floor and took that final step.

“Yeah,” He whispered, putting his hands on Tony’s arms “I think so too.”

And Tony tiled his head up, his eyes shining and flecked with blue highlights from the holograms.

“Do you really think you’d ever leave me?” Steve asked, his voice slightly more fragile now.

“No.” Tony answered quickly, shaking his head “Not on purpose, anyway. But-”

“But you might die, then I’d be devastated, and probably never live to see a hundred and ten – which would be true even if you weren’t a vampire.”

“But it isn’t…” And Tony sighed, and dropped his eyes, his forehead creased in thought. He looked up again, like he was making himself “It’s _not_ like that though, is it? You’re not just some guy I like and want to date, it’s… so much _more_ than that…”

Steve’s stomach turned, excited and terrified and everything in between. And all the time, Tony was right there under his palms…

“This…_thing_, this… bond, or whatever it is… If I say yes to this, I’m not just saying I want to be your boyfriend. I’m saying that I’d take _care_ of you, forever, that you’d just know that and could rely on that. And yeah, when I’m with you I feel like I can do that – but I don’t know enough about whatever this thing is, to know that its not all just a drug trip. That _you’re_ not under the influence of something, or weren’t, when you decided all this. I just know that…” Tony’s voice caught. He closed his eyes, “I _know_ that, whatever this thing is, it means asking you to trust that I’ll look after you, that _I _could take your pain from you and make you happy, and however sure I am about it – I have nothing to back that up with.”

And he looked at Steve, and Steve forgot to breathe. He was moved to the edge of tears, overwhelmed by this amazing, beautiful thing Tony was telling him – and then he realised that Tony didn’t know what he was telling him.

“Okay, so I don’t _know_ either” He managed, his voice too tight “I can only tell you what I just read, and that it feels really right to me, and just _hope_ you’ll recognise this too – but I’m pretty sure this _bond_ is whatever we are, just more.” He saw the flicker of interest in Tony’s eyes then, the recognition… was it possible to die of hope? “After you bit me, I felt everything so much more, and so clearly… but they were all things I thought anyway. And all the things I don’t really think, or get confused by, all just faded away… And if you want to know what’s been messing with my head since then – its probably the same thing as it was before you bit me. Just being in love with you. And confused and emotional and everything else that means.”

He could feel Tony soften under his hands. He watched Tony part his lips, just slightly, as he listened.

“I wanted you the moment I met you” Steve went on “I just didn’t know what for, yet. And then, almost as soon as you met me, you were kind to me… and _clever_ about it, and not at all cloying or patronising or… and I wanted to run to you then, and I have ever since. I want you to take care of me, I want to be _yours_. And you biting me just makes me want that more. And if it’d wanted something else, if we’d been something else, then I guess now we’d be _more_ that – you know, there are some pretty fucked up relationships in there” He gestured down to the book, still at his feet “And I’m guessing that those people were pretty fucked up before they decided to do this. But, if all you’re thinking now is that you want to… do that, that you could do that-”

“Then it’s you that makes me feel that way…” Tony’s voice had an almost dreamy quality to it now. And then he glanced back over to one of his holograms…and a knowing little smile flickered on his lips.

“Please, Tony…” Steve whispered, his heart lodged in his throat now “I know I-mhm-”

Because Tony had just turned around and kissed him.


	4. NSFW

Of course, Tony _was_ devastated.

When he heard Steve say that he’d _change_ him, if they kept doing this… The horror of that concept wouldn’t fit in his head, at first. That he might’ve inflicted on Steve the very thing he hated most about himself… that, obviously, it meant they could never do it again…

He _knew_ it wasn’t possible for him to suffocate – but that’s what it felt like.

And all he could think in that moment was that he had to save Steve from it. An instinct to throw himself on this grenade, to get Steve out of this situation as quickly and painlessly as possible, before he could even think about breaking down himself.

And then Steve said he wanted it.

The shock of it was what threw him. It was like his brain was too busy just staring at the situation to do anything useful.

And then, before he _dared_ to consider the good in that sentence, Tony reminded himself of the need to protect Steve, before anything else and ahead of anything else and at the cost of everything else. For a few moments, all of Steve’s confessions and offers and promises just felt like challenges to overcome, beautiful temptations, that if he so much as stopped to think about might lead him into something terrible – the _one _thing that he could never do. He could _never_ hurt Steve. Not even to listen to Steve say he loved him.

Not even in exchange for _everything_ he’d ever wanted, and more.

And Tony might well have stuck with that, if things had worked out just a little differently. Maybe he’d have even gone as far as to lie, and say he didn’t want it, if he’d managed to convince himself that it was really best for Steve…

But, instead, Steve had said, _after you bit me, I felt everything so much more, and so clearly… _

And, of all the things Tony could’ve thought about that, the thing that struck him immediately was that it was the first time Steve had directly mentioned the bite.

That he hadn’t actually come here to say how much he’d liked _that_, that he’d not once mentioned the fantasy of it or tried to convince Tony that vampires were miraculous creatures… And yet, that’s what he _was_ talking about…

Tony had one very important revelation then, from which everything else flowed.

That Steve didn’t love him _because_ he was a vampire. Steve didn’t love him _in spite _of him being a vampire. Steve _just_ loved him.

He remembered, back when they first met, when Steve had just casually asked him, _so, you’re the vampire, right?_ The way Steve hadn’t found it _especially_ strange… _As compared to what_? The fact that he hadn’t avoided it, or been embarrassed about it, or tried to find a euphemism. At the time, Tony thought it was Steve’s shy little smile that made his stomach suddenly tighten. But he’d kept going back to it, even before The Event, trying to hold on to that warm, _nice_ feeling…

There were the people who were disgusted by Tony’s status, obviously. There were the people who fetishized it; and Tony had actually hated those people more. And then there were the people who ignored it completely – those were the good ones. The people who were prepared to keep treating him like Tony Stark, people like Rhodey and Pepper, who hadn’t changed their behaviour around him even though he’d become something else entirely.

But he’d never even thought of _this_…

He’d not considered that anyone would want that side of him _as much_ as all the other parts. That anyone would just acknowledge it, like it was normal and good and right. That anyone would want him to bite them for any reason other than a weird vampire kink he didn’t share.

Suddenly, he recognised that he’d thought all of this the very first time he spoke to Steve. That Steve had made him feel safe, made him _like_ himself a little bit more… just by being Steve.

He realised that hearing Steve say he loved him, that he _wanted_ to be changed by him, made him feel every bit as confident and powerful and calm as his blood ever had.

And, out of nowhere, he had such a vivid memory of Yinsen, a little fragment of time so clear he could smell the damp in the cave. He remembered Yinsen asking him if he had a family. He remembered answering, bitterly, that he didn’t – and would never find one now. Not like _this_. The wise look in Yinsen’s eyes as he replied, cryptically, _there are certain families you can only find, like this… _And Tony had snorted at that, and rolled his eyes… and Yinsen smiled.

_You are determined never to see the world as a vampire, never to look through another set of eyes. Just as you swore, when you were a child, that you would never see the world through the eyes of a man. _

Oh…He understood.

This bond was a _vampire_ thing.

Something that he’d felt, right from the beginning – but that he’d refused to understand, because he’d been fighting everything he was. He’d been trying to make this thing fit a _human_ world; it was a different, younger… _lesser_ him that would’ve worried about all this. He was forcing so many of these concerns, because he couldn’t bare to let them go, to accept that he’d really become a different person, that he knew different things now, that he saw things differently…

He _knew _this bond wasn’t quite as simple as Steve made it sound.

Nothing he’d said so far was _wrong_ – it did come from what they felt for each other and who they were to each other. It _would_ be them, but more. And Tony wasn’t coercing Steve into this, or controlling him, or being controlled by him … He’d have known that anyway, if he’d trusted himself to know it…

But it wasn’t just what they would have been, exaggerated. It wasn’t just them, with an incredible shared experience to bring them closer. It really was _more_ than that. The effect of Steve’s blood might only last 24 hours, but the effects of bonding with him would change them both forever. It was the reason Tony could _feel_ Steve from two rooms over, three weeks after the blood wore off. It was the reason he could induce abject terror in Nick, when he felt Steve was threatened. It would be the thing that helped Tony find Steve wherever he was, know his pain, know how to make him feel good. It _was_ special, and powerful, and unique.

And Tony was done flinching away from that.

He was done pretending that this new understanding wasn’t there, because he didn’t want it to be. He was done pretending that this bond was overwhelming and political and ridiculous, just because it would’ve been when he was human.

He was done telling himself he didn’t know shit, and he was done looking for other people – who _didn’t_ know shit – to tell him what he knew.

It wasn’t the human Tony that Steve had seen and accepted and fallen in love with. He wasn’t looking past something to find that, or compromising anything for that. He’d fallen in love with Tony exactly as he was, and that’s what it had taken for Tony to realise that maybe it was okay to be what he was.

These were all the things he would’ve felt for Steve, in any reality. He was always going to want to love Steve and look after him and make him feel safe… But he could, in this reality – _because_ he was a vampire.

He did feel those things more intensely than he ever could as a human being – and that was _good_, because it just meant that he could love Steve more. Love him in a way he couldn’t have, before.

He could make Steve feel things that he’d never felt before, never even imagined – things that might’ve seemed like a fetish or a fantasy or even a perversion to a human mind, but were actually part of something deeper and more important than even existed, for humans.

And suddenly Tony was looking at everything completely differently.

This was the first moment in which Tony had let himself look at the world as a vampire – and now that he did, he knew exactly what he was looking at. What Steve _was_, to him. What he was offering. A promise and a bond and a relationship that didn’t make sense in another world, but made such perfect sense to him now.

And as this revelation had finally bloomed to its full conclusion, he’d glanced back at that phoney medical study – and realised what every hidden message in it really meant.

And, God, he couldn’t find the words to say it. He was flooded by such a feeling of glorious enlightenment, he couldn’t think _how_ to express it.

How sorry he was that he’d gotten it so wrong up until now

How completely he’d changed his mind, since all the things he’d said a few seconds earlier

How overwhelmed with joy he was, how much he loved Steve-

Just how _much_ the fucking answer was yes.

And in the end he’d thrown himself forward and kissed Steve, because he just didn’t know what else to do with himself. He was just _so_ happy, so relieved and so in love – and all so suddenly-

And then he felt Steve’s lips parting under his.

The warmth of Steve’s chest pressed against him, his arms snaking around his back.

The smell of him and the shape of him and the strength of him-

His Steve.

_His_.

And then he was more smiling against Steve’s mouth than kissing him. He felt Steve take a deep breath, and looked up in time to see him open his eyes, dazed.

And Tony did feel a little drunk, for a moment… and that part of it probably was just him being hopelessly in love.

“Tony…” Steve whispered, his voice soft and pleading.

“I’m so sorry” Tony smiled, “I’ve been ridiculous, and got this all wrong up ‘til right now. I love you.”

“I love you too” Steve exhaled, part relief, part elation. “And I want you, I want _this_, I know I do-”

“I know” Tony told him, gently. “And I want this too. And I promise, I _will_ love you, and look after you, for the rest of your life-”

“I know” Steve cut him off in the same soft tone. And Tony smiled, and let his eyes fall to Steve’s beautiful lips for just a second before he tilted his head up and kissed them again.

Steve melted into it immediately, wrapping his arms more tightly around Tony’s back and letting Tony tease his lips apart. Tony kissed him slow, and deep, and possessive, his palms running up Steve back like he was claiming him inch by inch. And then one hand reached the top of Steve’s spine, Tony’s fingertips curling over his shoulder just enough to tease at the curve of his neck.

Tony felt the thrill that ran through Steve then – and not just under his hands. Tony could feel it in his blood; he could almost taste the static charge of it on Steve’s tongue. And when Steve had to lift his head to gasp for air, Tony could see the way his pulse raced under his skin-

“_Please_ Tony” Steve whispered, low and breathless. “_Please_ can we…”

And it was _very_ tempting to just push Steve down on the battered leather couch at the back of the workshop, to sink his teeth into Steve’s neck right _now_.

But, now that he was listening to the other ideas in his head… he knew he could do better than that.

“Come.” He smiled, taking Steve by the hand. And of course, Steve followed him immediately and without question.

Tony knew he always would, now.

*

By the time they reached Tony’s bedroom, Steve was feeling as dizzy and emotional as he had when Tony bit him.

He’d given literally everything he had by the end of that conversation. He’d cut his own heart open and offered Tony everything, every dearest wish and deepest feeling, every fragment of who he was. He’d pushed himself to the point of panicking that there just was nothing more, that maybe all he was just wasn’t enough-

And then Tony had kissed him.

Steve was so shocked and relieved in that second, he might actually have fallen backwards if he hadn’t had Tony to cling to. He didn’t know how to be that happy, how to feel that much – and that was before Tony got to telling him yes. He _could_ have this. It _was_ going to be like this, after all.

By the time Tony got to inviting him upstairs, Steve was so overawed and excited that he’d nearly taken the direction to ‘come’ literally.

And now they were _here_, with Steve feeling completely emotionally spent and over sensitive and more vulnerable than he ever had in his life. He had nothing more to give and he’d shown so much of himself and he _needed_ so badly-

And he liked it.

It made him feel free. He felt honest, and natural, and pure. In this moment, he only had to _be_ –

Because Tony would take care of him.

He let Tony guide him, laying him on his back in the middle of the bed and climbing on top of him. He planted his knees either side of Steve’s thighs, resting his weight on his forearms right beside Steve’s arms – pining him in place. Steve canted his hips up against him shamelessly, all inhibitions well and truly abandoned now. But Tony just smiled down on him, dark and warm and almost teasing, his body held resolutely still over the top of him. Steve could _feel_ how strong he was…

“Please” He whispered again – an articulation of his general desperation rather than pleading for anything specific. He knew Tony was in charge of this now, _Tony_ would know what he needed, Tony would always give him whatever he needed…

_Forever, and ever, and ever…_

And Tony dropped his head, a feather light hint of his lips against Steve’s neck. Steve’s whole body flooded with heat, his every muscle tensed in anticipation, his mouth suddenly watering. Tony pressed a soft, slow kiss against Steve’s throat, his lips right there over the vein, sending a dull, deep shiver through Steve that was so intense it was almost painful. There was the powerful conflict between how good it felt and how much more he wanted, the teasing just at the edge of utterly unbearable.

_Please Tony bite me, please bite me, please, please-_

Steve thought, or possibly babbled out loud. But Tony just smiled – Steve could feel it against his skin. And then he whispered, low and hot,

“You’re perfect, Steve” Tony kissed him again, lighter and sweeter, and Steve’s whole body twitched. “You’re perfect for me.”

And then Tony pushed himself up again, until he was straddling Steve’s hips. Steve’s cry of protest at losing Tony’s mouth was replaced with a moan, as Tony ground against him – but not enough. Steve tried, increasingly desperately, to move against him, throwing his head back to bare his neck. He could hear himself whispering _please, please, _and he didn’t know how long he’d been saying it for. And then Tony’s hands slid under Steve’s t-shirt, the cool of his palms running up along Steve’s stomach, bringing the shirt with them.

Steve lifted his arms immediately, arcing his back and trying to wriggle lower – but Tony just continued with the same steady, determined place. Caressing his hands over every inch of skin, all the way along Steve body, from his waist to his fingers. And, when he’d finally thrown Steve’s t-shirt aside, Tony just looked at him for a few long moments. Those beautiful, dark eyes so focussed on Steve, alive with intent.

“Look at you…” He whispered, dreamily.

“_Please_ Tony” Steve practically sobbed, when the tension inside him had coiled so tight it hurt.

“Shh, it’s okay” Tony soothed, leaning forward to stroke his face very softly, tracing his thumb over Steve’s lips. And then he shifted, parting Steve’s legs so that he could kneel between them. Steve whined at the loss of friction, still rocking his hips, fingers curled hard into the sheets now. He wanted to reach out and grab for Tony, but it was like he just knew not to. That he had to let Tony do this – that he wanted to have to let Tony do this.

And then he felt Tony unbutton his jeans, and pull them down over his hips in one tug. A low, pleading noise escaped Steve as Tony finally stroked his hand along his cock, touching him through the now very wet and sticky fabric of his underwear. Smiling wickedly as he rubbed his thumb over the head of Steve’s dick, teasing more fluid through the material, eliciting increasingly high-pitched whines. And just as Steve had completely lost himself in chasing that sharp, compulsive pleasure, he felt Tony hook his finger under the waistband of his boxer shorts, and the sudden cool air-

And then Tony’s mouth on his cock.

“Oh, Jesus, oh Tony, oh fuck-”

Steve curled forward and grabbed the back of Tony’s head then, because he’d lost _all_ control of his body. He had to hold his breath and dig his nails into the palm of his other hand, just to keep from coming immediately. At first it was just the sheer sensation, and then, as Tony drew back slowly, Steve felt the faintest scratch of his teeth running the length of his cock, and there was the sudden thrill of the hypothetical threat of Tony, the theoretical danger of this – the perfectly safe rush of fear. Tony flicked his tongue over Steve’s slit, licking pre-come from the head of Steve’s dick the way he’d once licked blood from his wounds, his hands curling around Steve’s hips exactly where he’d once bitten him. Steve let his head fall back again as he ran his hands desperately through Tony’s hair, arcing up to meet his mouth. And then Tony took the length of him again, deeper this time, letting Steve’s cock slide into the slick tightness of his throat.

“Oh God yes, oh fuck yes, oh, fuck”

Steve bucked his hips sharply before he could think to stop himself, his head swimming as the pleasure of it rolled through him. It pulsed in him hotter and sharper now; every little thrust feeling so good, the need for release growing more urgent and painful with every movement. He was _so_ close, _so_ desperate for it now-

And then, through this haze of pleasure and need, Steve could make out the faintest alarm in his head. The only thing that had _any_ chance of breaking through, in that moment – _you cannot hurt Tony._ The sudden remembrance that he couldn’t get carried away with this, that Tony needed to breathe-

_Oh, wait._

_No, he doesn’t_

And, as if Tony could read his mind, he chose just then to take Steve another inch deeper, digging his fingertips into Steve’s skin as he worked him off against the back of his throat. And, God, the _thought_ of it, the relentless physical pleasure, the almost-pain where Tony had him pinned by the hips-

“Oh, Tony, oh-God-I-love-you- _oh-_”

Something in Steve snapped, everything inside him just collapsing in its wake. Tony pulled back as Steve came, sucking the head of his cock, the flat of his tongue dragging over his slit, drawing it out. And Steve tensed, and shuddered, and shouted wordlessly, his hands twisted brutally in Tony’s hair. Until finally he’d let go of everything, including every ounce of tension in him, and his body just went from under him, collapsing as a dead weight onto the mattress.

For a few heady, dizzy seconds there was nothing else. Just the low thrum of pleasure, and the bliss of release, and the complete lack of resistance. Like he was floating. He felt Tony move, and then his jeans being pulled down his legs – he did his best to help kick them away, but his legs were still heavy, and his whole body still felt weak. He barely saw Tony taking his own shirt off and tossing it aside. It was only when he felt the cool pressure of Tony’s palms, stroking along the inside his thighs, that Steve’s mind kicked into gear again. Or his body – _something_ certainly paid attention to that.

Steve came back into the room like a man being snapped out of a trance. Even as the aftershocks still ran through him, Steve began to remember that _other_ need that still burned inside him. Tony had taken the sharp edge off of Steve’s desire, but it was still there, beating under his skin. The renewed purpose returned some of the tension to his muscles, and he managed to push himself up enough to watch Tony stroking his hands over his legs, pushing them further apart…

Oh, he was beautiful. So talented and powerful and strong –

And _his_.

And then Tony dropped his head, kissing Steve’s thighs in that knowing, searching way… Steve’s body remembered before his head did, bracing in anticipation. His breathing picked up again, his cock made a valiant attempt to pay attention.

And, at last, Tony sank his teeth into him.

Steve threw his head back and _screamed_, letting his legs fall apart and lifting his hips and doing everything he could to surrender to this. It was searing and brutal, Tony’s teeth cutting more sharply into more tender flesh, sending hot needle points of sensation along his legs and back. Steve’s cock throbbed hard again before it was even fully soft, the oversensitivity just melting into the rest of this glorious, urgent pain. He could feel his muscle pulse, hotter and hotter, around Tony’s fangs. The deep, thrumming pleasure of it interspersed with sudden, sharp shocks, coming quicker and harder as Tony settled his teeth into him. But he didn’t drink.

This was purely to cause pleasure; it wasn’t to draw blood.

By the time he felt Tony pull free of him Steve was panting frantically, his chest shiny with sweat.

“More, please more” He gasped, “Again, _please-_”

And then Tony’s hands were on his hip, and his shoulder, and then Tony had thrown him onto his front, _so_ quickly – like he was weightless. A delighted, startled sound escaped him, his stomach flipping and his heart racing like he was at the crest of a fairground ride. And, God, Steve had wanted someone who could do that, someone that he couldn’t break, someone stronger than he was-

And he had that someone now. He had Tony completely, all his, _forever_.

“Oh-God-Tony-Yes-” Steve whispered, as Tony pressed a firm hand between Steve’s shoulders and pinned him down. There was a low, rough thrill as his cock was dragged against the sheets, but Steve’s attention was squarely focussed on release of a different kind by now. “Oh, please bite me again, I want you to bite me, I want you to drink me, please-” He babbled, helplessly, as Tony reached for something on his bedside table. Pushing up against his hand just to feel how strong it was.

And then he felt Tony run his other hand between his legs, his words catching in his throat as the shock of that touch spread through his hips and along his spine and right to the tip of his cock. He stopped pushing up against Tony’s hand so that he could lift his ass for him, spreading his legs wider, offering himself up. There was a tense pause of a second or two, and then there was the gentle press of Tony’s fingers, now slippery with lube, teasing his hole.

Steve moaned softly as Tony pushed a finger into him, the burn of it over too quickly, the pressure inside him nowhere near enough. He tried to push himself back, but there was the firm, patient press of Tony’s other hand on the small of his back, a silent command to lie still. Steve whimpered and grabbed the comforter, as Tony pushed a second finger into him, just as slowly. Loving every twist and push, but, _fuck_ he wanted more. God, this was so good, and such torture-

“Oh, _please_ Tony-” Broke out of him before he had a chance to bite his lip, his thighs burning with the effort of trying to stay still for Tony. And then Tony pushed a third finger into him, the heat of it shooting up his spine, his cock weeping into the sheets – his pulse burning in his neck now. “_OhFuckOhFuckOhFuck”_

Tony had him held on this knife edge, and Steve was so focussed on that need, he didn’t feel anything else. He’d forgotten there _was_ anything else-

And then he felt Tony’s lips at the small of his back, kissing their way along the curve of his ass.

He twisted his fingers inside Steve, pressing against his prostate _just_ as he sank his teeth into his flesh.

Steve bit down on the sheets, his muffled screaming still filling the room. He’d never felt pleasure like this. It was hot and cold and searing and sharp and deep. His eyes filled with tears, his whole body felt over sensitive, he _could not believe _he hadn’t come yet-

But he wouldn’t, not while there was this other desperate longing-

And then, with a sweep of his tongue, Tony’s mouth was gone. His fingers were gone. Steve tried to protest, violently, completely forgetting that his mouth was full of duvet – but then Tony’s hands were under him, and Steve’s whole body was lifted up onto his knees, all the breath leaving his body as his back came to a solid stop against Tony’s chest.

He threw his head back against Tony’s shoulder, parting his legs, trying to press against him. 

And then there were Tony’s lips, hot and teasing against his ear.

“I love you, Steve. I will _always_ love you”

And Steve tried to say it back, but he was panting too hard.

And then there were Tony’s teeth pressed against his throat, and Steve wasn’t breathing _at all_.

When Tony finally bit into him, it was soft and slow, like a kiss. Steve felt the rush of blood leave his body, felt it tug through every inch of him, the sudden swell of euphoria even stronger than the first time.

He came. And came, and came, the release of it rolling up to meet the more powerful pleasure in his neck, every nerve alight with every type of feeling. He felt his body fall limp against Tony, his throat relaxing to let his teeth in deeper, the sharp delicious pain of it running riot through his vulnerable, oversensitive flesh.

He felt Tony pull free of him, his lips and tongue already working to sooth the wound he’d left on Steve’s neck. Steve felt himself gasp for air, unaware until then that he even needed to, the rush of oxygen hitting him like a drug. His head swam, his vision blurred, his body could do nothing other than rest against Tony and _feel_.

God, he felt so _much_.

The cool sweep of Tony’s tongue and the tender press of his lips and the caress of his skin against Steve’s back. The sharp, cold edges of the arc reactor contrasted against the warm, gentle way Tony was stroking his arms and chest. Steve’s whole body pulsed in time with his frantic heart, every muscle softened into the shape of Tony. And being dizzy – oh, he _loved_ feeling dizzy… He loved feeling loose and open and entirely helpless.

And he just wanted Tony.

A basic, primal need to have him, to be close to him, to be held by him and taken by him and part of him.

“Tony, Tony, Tony, p-please-” It came out slurred and stuttered, and probably too quiet for Tony to hear. But it wouldn’t matter. Tony would know what Steve needed.

And then Tony stroked his palms over Steve’s shoulders, down over his waist and hips, cupping his ass and spreading him open.

“You want me to fuck you now?” Tony whispered sweetly, positioning himself between Steve’s legs.

“Mm-hm, yes, please yes” Steve nodded, his head heavy and light at the same time.

And then he felt Tony push into him, his body putting up literally no resistance. There was just the warm, dull pleasure of Tony moving inside him, filling him up, until Steve could feel it at the base of his spine and the pit of his gut. Until Steve finally felt complete and real and right. Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, his hips pressed flush against him, his head nuzzled gently into the nook of Steve’s neck.

“You’re beautiful Steve, you feel so good” He murmured, his voice rougher now “So good for me…”

It washed over Steve like a soft, summer breeze, warm and calming in such a deep, human way.

“I want to be good for you” Steve whispered, “I just want that.” He heard Tony hum contentedly against his skin, the slightest edge of need on his tone, as he began to rock into Steve.

The pleasure that rolled though Steve then was thicker, slower moving and without the sharp edges. It worked deep into his muscles, soaking into him. And with it came a bodily rush of joy, a feeling of complete and total happiness that pooled in his chest and his stomach and made everything around him seem brighter. Suddenly, Steve just _knew_ that everything was alright – _everything_. He was sure of it. He felt it in every inch of him, along with this warm, dragging pleasure. He wanted to laugh, or cry, and simply ended up moaning softly as Tony pushed into him harder.

The moaning melted into a whimper as Tony picked up the pace, feeling every thrust individually, not building to anything – just enjoying it. He lost himself in it, letting himself float on this endless sensation, relaxing into it, Just _taking_.

And then he heard Tony’s voice catch – heard it in a way he didn’t usually hear, _felt_ it as a rich satisfaction and a warm anticipation.

“Oh, please Tony, fuck me, use me, take me, _please_” Steve babbled, having lost all the complex connections between his brain and his mouth. He felt Tony’s grip tighten, snapping his hips into Steve in shorter, sharper thrusts. Tony’s movement stuttered. And then he buried himself into Steve, groaning low in his chest as he came inside him.

And then his head fell heavy against Steve’s shoulder, his arms still wrapped tight around him, and he whispered very softly,

“_Mine”_

And Steve had never been this happy.

*

This might have been Tony’s favourite part.

Maybe he’d have said differently, if he’d been asked just before he sank his teeth into Steve’s neck, or when he was fucking him – maybe it all just felt like the best part, at the time.

But right now, he couldn’t think of anything more wonderful than just watching Steve rest.

Steve had collapsed into Tony almost as soon as he came, babbling words like ‘happy’ and ‘love’ and ‘perfect’ in no coherent order. And Tony had kissed him softly, and carried on whispering that he loved him as he helped him onto his back, watching as Steve’s eyes fell shut.

Tony had just been staring at him for the few moments since then, completely thrown by how movingly lovely he was. That flawless, beautiful body laid out for Tony, so open and relaxed. That dreamy little smile that played on his lips, even though he was sleeping. He was _happy_. And that was so deeply comforting, so wonderfully _right_, that Tony felt literally tearful.

He gave his head a little shake, and wiped the moisture from his eyes, and took a completely symbolic deep breath. He knew Steve would wake up soon – that he’d passed out, rather than fallen asleep, and when he came to he would need things. Things Tony should have ready.

So, as hard as it was to tear his eyes away, Tony got off of the bed and went to the bathroom. He filled a bowl with warm water, and grabbed a washcloth, and thought for a second about taking one of the anti-septic creams for Steve’s cuts… but no. Somehow, he knew better than that. That wasn’t how those bites worked… He should have ice, though. Next time they did this, Tony would be better prepared, he would have everything that Steve could possible need already there – but as it was, Tony knew better than to go looking for anything. That it was more important he be here. Instead he filled a glass with cold water, and took it and the washbowl back to the bedroom.

Steve was just beginning to stir as Tony sat beside him on the bed.

“Hey sweetheart, are you with me?” He whispered, placing a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder. He watched those impossible eyelashes flutter, those pale blue eyes blinking into a heady, dazed awareness – already looking for him. Tony’s heart might not beat much, but it could still feel full.

“Mm-hm” Steve smiled, even though he wasn’t really. Tony touched Steve’s face very softly, running his thumb along his jaw, waiting until a there was a little more focus in his eyes before he passed him the glass of water. He kept his hand curled around Steve’s, guiding the glass to his lips, and then watching, mesmerised, as Steve swallowed a few greedy mouthfuls.

_Should’ve done that last time, too_.

But it wasn’t the scathing tone that his internal monologue usually came in; he didn’t hate himself for getting that wrong, before. He didn’t take it as a sign that he simply wasn’t up to this, or that he’d never be able to take care of Steve – because he knew he would. And he knew next time there would be water, and ice. Right now, he was more focused on this time, on the contented pride that filled him watching Steve drink.

Steve managed half the glass before he pulled away from it, and Tony took for him and put it aside. Steve let his head fall back against the pillow, his lips full and slightly swollen and damp now…

“You’re _stunning_” Tony told him, moving so that he could lie next to Steve and whisper close “And you’re brave, and kind, and _clever_” He smiled, remembering that Steve could read Hungarian. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted, you make everything better – you make me happy”

Steve’s eyes softened then, his lips parting just slightly. So Tony leant forward and kissed him – because his lips were perfect, and he was perfect, and because Tony _could_. And Steve kissed him back softly, because everything about Steve was soft and heavy and warm now. It sent happy little shivers though Tony, feeling how calm and relaxed Steve was.

“I’m going to make you happy” Tony promised, his forehead still resting against Steve’s.

“You do make me happy” Steve answered, his voice thick and still slightly slurred. “I never thought I’d be happy again… and now I don’t think I was ever happy before…”

_Oh Steve_

“But I am _going_ to make you happy, every day, _forever_” Tony went on, his voice more fragile now. “And I am going to take care of you, always, and love you, always, and I _am_ going to make everything better for you, I promise.”

“I know” Steve breathed, his eyes shining.

“You’re going to stay right here, with me, until tomorrow” Tony told him, delighting in Steve’s elated little smile “I should never have let you go, before. It was too soon, and I knew it was, and I was being an idiot, and I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” Steve frowned, about to carry on when Tony asserted,

“Yeah, because I’m done being an idiot now, I promise.”

And Steve laughed – which was, as it turned out, Tony’s favourite sound in the whole world.

“I’m going to be everything you need, from now on, I promise” Tony whispered, running his hand through Steve’s hair. And then he cupped the back of Steve’s head, and fixed him with a more focused look before he told him. “I need you too, you know. There will come a point when I’d starve without you, I’d already be lost without you.”

“I’ll never leave you. Never.”

“I know.” Tony smiled, feeling that run though him as a wave of perfect joy.

And he looked at Steve, so happy and so in love with _him_, just letting Tony take care of him and reassure him and be sweet to him…

Yeah, this was definitely his favourite part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed it - feedback is love :-)


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